


Double Exposure

by SpiritForlorn



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Everything before the end of Episode 4 is pretty much exactly the same, F/F, Good ol' Fashioned Occult fun, Multiple time travelers, Slight alteration to the canon, Tearing the fabric of the space-time, Victoria Redemption!, possible ChaseMarsh depends on how I feel the characters develop organically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritForlorn/pseuds/SpiritForlorn
Summary: Can one truly fight fate?Max has been asking herself that question ever since she first got her powers. Now she’s faced with her greatest challenge yet, as she and Chloe are separated on the eve of the storm set to destroy their home. It's a race against time as Max’s closest friends seek to liberate her from the clutches of her captors. But it’s not just the enemies without who pose a threat. Hearts and souls will be tested as worlds fall apart at the seams.





	1. It's Only the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note:
> 
> This is my first fan fiction in quite a while, but after finishing Life is Strange for the first time a month ago, I knew it wouldn't be easy to let go of. Like many of you, I was heart broken and disappointed by the final episode. This fic is my attempt to expand upon some of the characters and plot threads that were abandoned as well as develop some aspects of the game that I felt were hinted at in various episodes. My main goal with this fic is to divert the from the canon ending while still staying true to the characters and some of the themes of the original story, including those that I felt were betrayed by the final choice of the game. I want the story to be interesting and different, but not to the extent that it feels completely divorced from the first four chapters of the game. I will use canon dialogue where I can, and follow as logical a path as possible that feels like it could have been a canon ending for the story. I hope everyone enjoys this work, and I greatly appreciate feedback and comments on my writing and the direction the story is taking.  
>  
> 
> I also think it would be fun to include music that I feel fits the mood or themes of the chapter, taken from a playlist I made, inspired by the Life is Strange soundtrack!
> 
> Chapter 1:  
>  _Got Well Soon_ Breton  
>  _Tonight, Tonight, Tonight_ Low Roar

The Blackwell auditorium pulsed with the almost deafening beat of music. Max could feel a headache coming, whether it was from the noise or from her rewind she couldn’t be sure. The last few hours had been a blur. Rachel Amber was dead and Max still couldn’t quite believe it. After all of her and Chloe’s hard work, after all the sleepless nights picking up the cold trail, after finding the Dark Room and fighting against time itself; their efforts were for nothing. Max’s heart was heavy with disgust and regret and sadness, but it was _nothing_ to what Chloe must have been feeling.

She managed to spot Chloe who was on the other side of the auditorium, her friend’s shoulders were hunched in an effort to contain her fury as she moved through the crowded Vortex Club party. She’d been like that since the junkyard, when they had pulled back the thin layer of earth that hid Rachel away from the world. Max had never seen such grief before. Watching Chloe writhe in emotional agony had broken her heart.

_How much do you have to suffer, Chloe? You didn’t deserve any of this._

And Chloe had suffered, hadn’t she?  Suffered the death of her father, the abandonment of her best friend, and five years of loneliness and adolescence.

_And I thought I could just take it all back. Like it was nothing._

“I love you, Max,” Chloe had whispered. “See you around.”

Those had been the final words of the alternate Chloe, the one Max had kill—had put out of her misery. The memory sent a shock of ice through her veins. She had fucked up so, so bad. Chloe had been so _broken_ , a pale shadow of the girl she had grown to know over the past few days. Her Chloe. But that wasn’t real, was it? She’d changed things back to the way they had been. But the memories were still there. All she wanted to do was help, but all her help did was hurt her best friend. She still hadn’t told Chloe what she had done. How could she? How could she tell Chloe that she had seen her father alive and well again. How could she possibly put into words that she had put Chloe in that hospital bed, her body slowly collapsing from within, tethered down by dozens of tubes and wires? Max wiped a tear from her face.

Would this guilt devour her? She was barely holding things together as it was. But there was no time to wallow in it now. Not with Nathan Prescott still out there. So far their search had turned up nothing. Nathan was nowhere to be found, and no one had seen him all night. Max had thought for sure that he’d be here, but now there a growing sense of unease welling up in her chest, as if each passing moment were leading them somewhere dangerous and uncharted.

_At least I warned Victoria. She’s got her issues, but no one deserves what Nathan’s been doing to those girls._

Max shuddered, the memory of the clinical smell of the Dark Room ghosted across her nose, her headache worsened at the thought of the too-bright white lights. Nathan was seriously disturbed, and his father was funding his sick project. Rachel, Kate, and so many others. How long had this been going on? The Prescotts had too much blood on their hands. Max wasn’t sure all the time in the world would be enough to wash it away.

A familiar voice shook her back into the present.

“Max Caulfield, just the person I wanted to see,” said Mr. Jefferson, his voice loud.

“Oh, Mr. Jefferson, hey,” Max said, looking up at her professor.

He was smiling, his posture less rigid than it was in class; it seemed like he was allowing himself a bit of enjoyment despite his duties as a chaperone. Max wondered what he thought of the underage drinking going on all around him. Maybe he didn’t care. He wanted to be seen as the “cool” teacher.

_Or maybe he’s more worried about his paycheck. The Prescotts and their money practically fund the Vortex Club and the school. I don’t think anyone would really listen to any complaints._

“Woah, you look like you’re on a mission,” Mr. Jefferson said with a laugh, “Everything alright?”

“Sorry Mr. Jefferson, I don’t really have time for this. Have you seen Nathan Prescott?”

“That’s actually why I was hoping to run into you. I think there’s something you should know about him,” he said, his voice growing more serious.

“What?” Max’s said, disbelief eking into her voice, “I really, really, need to know where he is, Mr. Jefferson.”

“We shouldn’t talk here. Let’s go to my office,” He said, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder.

“Ok, I’ll meet you there as soon as I go find Chloe,” Max said, turning back towards the crowd, searching for signs of her friend.

“No, Max. I don’t think we have time. If this is as important as you say it is, I think you’re really going to want to hear what I have to tell you.”

Chloe was still nowhere to be seen; the dancing lights, roaming lasers and vapor from the fog machines made it almost impossible to see very far. When she looked back at Mr. Jefferson, he was already headed towards the exit **.** With one final glance back at the party, Max left the auditorium.

The walk to Mr. Jefferson’s office was as quick as it was silent. Max was too lost in her own thoughts to ask Mr. Jefferson anything, and something about the look on his face told her he wouldn’t give up anything until he knew they wouldn’t be overheard. Her mind was racing to fill in the possibilities. What did Jefferson know? Did Nathan tell him something? She had a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was the fact that the path before them was illuminated by the unnatural light of two moons.

_What the hell is even going on? First the snow, then the eclipse and dying animals, now this? And the tornado could be here tomorrow. Why is this all happening?_

Was it all her fault? Could it be that her messing with time had broken something that should have been left alone? But why would she be given a power if she wasn’t meant to use it? These questions had haunted her all week, and she was no closer to answering them now than she was then. Max didn’t even know where her powers came from. All she knew was that if she had the ability to do something to make things right then she would. If these powers let her save Chloe and Kate, then how bad could they be?

_But when I went back for William, I made things worse._

Max didn’t want to think about the implications of that thought, so she pushed it down deep.

Mr. Jefferson opened the door to the administration building with his key, leading them into the hallway where his office was located. Max had visited him here occasionally, but never this late. The polished linoleum of the floors glistened in the moonlight that filtered through the windows, giving the hallway a strange glistening look as if everything were slimy. She was struck by the oppressive silence of the building, a stark contrast from the overstimulation of the End of the World party.

“Well, now that we don’t have to worry about any interruptions,” Mr. Jefferson said, as he motioned for Max to step inside. “Get the lights, if you could.”

The office was pitch black as Max entered, the curtained window shielded the room from the moonlight. Max could only just make out the desk in the corner, as well as the bookshelf covered in photography books and the framed works by Mr. Jefferson and his peers. There was something piled onto the sofa at the back of the room, but Max couldn’t make it out in the gloom. She flipped the light switch.

Max’s breath caught in her throat. Victoria Chase lay motionless on the couch, a steady stream of drool leaking from her pink lips.

“V-Victoria?” Max managed to choke out.

There was a sharp pain in the side of her neck. Her hand reached up to the wound, but her limbs felt heavy, her mind grew slow and confused.

“Yes, she got a little too nosy for her own good. Sound like someone you know, Max?” Mr. Jefferson said, frustration sharpening the words.

Max tried to rewind, her hand raising in a lazy arc for a moment before she began to lose her balance. Her vision began to blur, the sounds in the room became warped and distant.

_Mr. Jefferson? N-No, I can’t rewind. Can’t._

Max blinked and suddenly found herself laying on the floor, unable to move.

“You came to hear what I had to say about Nathan,” he said, kneeling down towards Max. “Unfortunately for you, Nathan’s not the only one you should have been worried about.”

_No. Chloe. Chloe doesn’t . . ._

He smiled at Max and then the world went black.

________________________________________

_Nathan Prescott is a fucking dead man._

Chloe’s hands were starting to ache after the extensive clenching they’d been subjected to throughout the night. She needed to punch something, if she didn’t she was going to explode. It was too much, all of this; the noise, the smell of chlorine and weed and cheap deodorant, the violent vortex of thoughts in her head. She could barely focus on where she was going, and she bumped into party goers more than she would have otherwise. None of them said anything when they saw the look on her face. Good. She wasn’t about to take shit from anybody.

This was taking too long. She needed to find Nathan now. She needed him to suffer _now._ For what he did to her, for what he’d threatened to do to Max. For killing Rachel.

_Oh god. Rachel._

Chloe pushed down the trauma of that afternoon deep within her. She didn’t have any time for that shit, not now. Rage, rage, rage. That’s what she needed. How good it would feel to smash that little rich kid’s face in. She smiled, but there was no mirth in it.

She’d checked almost every inch of this stupid auditorium and hadn’t found any sign of that weasely fuck. It was looking like this whole thing was a bust. He wasn’t here. Maybe it was time to find Max.

But Max was nowhere to be found. At first this merely added to Chloe’s mountain of frustration, but as she moved further and further through the party without any sign of Max, she began to grow worried. When was the last time she saw her? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen? Shit, she was talking to Victoria wasn’t she? Chloe quickened her pace, her anger bleeding away into anxiety. The faces in the crowd all seemed the same. Not Max, not Max, not Max. Something wasn’t right.

“Max!” Chloe called out. “Max Caulfield!”

She got a few odd looks, but she didn’t pay any attention to them.

Chloe pulled out her phone, but Max hadn’t texted or called. Her fingers rapid fired across the touchscreen.

**[Chloe]: Max where th hell r u?**

**[Chloe]: dude im about to freak**

**[Chloe]: ??????**

Chloe pushed Max’s contact and pressed the phone to her ear. She could barely hear the call go straight to Max’s voicemail. There was no way she’d have her phone off. She’d know better than that.

“Fuck!” Chloe swore as she tried to call again.

Straight to voicemail.

Something inside Chloe shifted, and she knew. Something was very, very wrong.

By the time Chloe made it outside into the frigid October night, she’d called Max a total of seven times.

_Don’t freak out Chloe. Just take a deep breath and think this through. What would Max do?_

Chloe pulled her phone from her pocket, she scrolled through her contacts until she reached one affectionately dubbed “Walmart”. It seemed like an eternity passed before the ringing stopped.

“Chloe?” Warren said, his voice groggy and uncertain, a sure sign of his continued intoxication.

“Warren,” Chloe began, her voice sounding more desperate than she’d been hoping it would. “Have you seen Max?”

“What? I thought she was with you?” Warren said.

“Shit, I think. . .I think, Nathan might have gotten to her. I can’t find her anywhere and she’s not answering her phone.”

“Oh. Oh shit,” Warren said, tripping over the words. “Where are you? I’m coming.”

“My truck’s in the parking lot. If you’re not there when I am, I’m leaving you behind.

Chloe was sprinting towards the parking lot. Her thoughts racing.

_If that rich asshole hurt her._

Chloe could feel the hot sting of tears building in her eyes. She couldn’t even begin to think what she would do if something bad were to happen to Max.

She fished the keys out of her pocket, almost dropping them in her rush, but what she saw in the parking lot nearly knocked the wind out of her. Her tires were slashed and the beater truck sat lower to the ground on the flat rubber.

“No,” she said in disbelief. “No, no, no.”

Nathan did this, he must have. Chloe let out a portion of her fury on the poor automobile, adding a few more dents into its body with a roar. This couldn’t be happening.

“Chloe!” Warren’s voice called out to her from across the lot.

He had sobered up somewhat, but his steps were still clumsy. When he reached her, he was panting. The run had taken a lot out of him.

“My car’s fucked! We have to get to the barn. That’s where he’s taken her, I know it,” Chloe said, the words tumbling from her mouth along with all of her fear and rage and guilt.

“Woah, Ok. We can take my car,” Warren said, reaching out a tentative hand to Chloe’s shoulder.

The girl pulled away on instinct at first, but then let her shoulders fall, her head sinking towards her chest as she let out a shaky breath.

“How could I let this happen?”

“We’ll get her back,” he said, with a strength in his voice that Chloe did not expect. Warren’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

Chloe nodded, her face serious.

Warren handed her the keys.

“You should probably drive.”


	2. Flame in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 song:
> 
>  _Hold Me in Your Arms_ Mud Flow

 

  

Click.

Nothingness and weightlessness. Then, everything and crushing weight.

Click.

_Something. Is. Wrong._

Max was in a formless fog. Her vision filled with white. Vague shapes seemed to be moving in the distance, ethereal, shadowy things. There was noise. Music? And through the melody of the blank space there was a soft whisper.

Click. Click. Click.

_What’s happening? Wh-Where am I?_

Her body began to feel real to her again. She could feel numbness in her limbs, and through the numbness she remembered her body.

The shapes were becoming clearer. A shadowy silhouette stood before her, surrounded by a blinding light.

Click.

Max blinked, and the silhouette was gone. She took a breath for what seemed like the first time in hours. Her mouth was dry, and her head hurt as she squinted in the too-bright light. Memories eluded her. She couldn’t quite remember how she got here, or even where here was. She went to stand up, but found her hands and feet bound to a metal chair. Then everything flooded back to her at once.

Rachel. The Dark Room. Mr. Jefferson.

_God . . . no._

“H-Hello?” Max managed to croak out. 

She heard a groan beside her. It was Victoria laying prone, her hands bound and her head lulling from side to side. The reality of their situation finally began to dawn on Max. Fear began to bubble into her heart. Victoria needed to wake up, and fast.

“Victoria?” Max whispered, unsure if anyone was in earshot. It was almost impossible to make anything out of her surroundings, her senses still overwhelmed. 

“Hey, Victoria . . . it’s Max. Can you hear me?” 

Victoria stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Max. . . Oh god, where . . . where are we? What’s happening?” Victoria said, slowly making the same realizations that Max had.

“You’ve been drugged. Like Kate, and me. Do you remember how you got here?” Max said. She had to go about this delicately, she didn’t need Victoria to panic. She was barely holding it together herself.

“You . . . you warned me about Nathan,” she said, her voice shaking, “And then I went to Jefferson for help, and he was acting _so_ weird. That’s the last thing I remember.”

She looked up at Max, her eyes pleading.

“I can’t move my arms! Help me Max. Please, I’m sorry for everything,” she sobbed.

Max took a breath, as she tried to keep Victoria’s fear from aggravating her own.

“Listen carefully, Mark Jefferson kidnapped us. He’s using Nathan, as well. Jefferson is very dangerous so we have to get out of here before he comes back.” 

Victoria’s head lulled, her body still fighting the effects of the drugs.

“I just . . . can’t believe this is real. I don’t want to die like this! I’m only eighteen,” 

_I don’t want to die either, Victoria. Oh my god. I have to keep it together, for the both of us._

“Just hold on, Victoria. Nobody is going to die, anymore.”

“Max, what’s going on? I thought you said Nathan was dangerous, but it was actually Mark? Mr. Jefferson?”  

Max tried her best to swallow that guilt. Mr. Jefferson had taken them. Mr. Jefferson, the man she had idolized, the man she had respected and trusted. Max felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Of course Nathan couldn’t have done all of this on his own. Max had been so caught up in everything that she hadn’t taken a moment to stop and think things through. She told Victoria as much, in the hopes that she could forgive her.

“I’m not going to let that asshole get away with this. I just . . . I need you to be strong ok.”

_You and me both._

“I’m not strong, Max. Look at me,” Victoria said, her voice growing distant. Hollow. “Look what I did to Kate Marsh.”

Max could see tears begin to collect in Victoria’s eyes as she continued.

“Now she’s in the hospital, and I’m here.”

Max was starting to lose her. She could almost see the guilt begin to swallow Victoria whole, smothering her like quicksand.

“Kate wants us to get the hell out of here,” Max said, trying her best to sound reassuring. “We can both go see her again together, ok?”

But Victoria ignored her, lost in her own thoughts.

“I’d do anything to see Kate once more,” Victoria said, her gaze drifting to somewhere far away and unseen, “Just to tell her I’m sorry.”

“We’re going to get out of this. I promise”

Victoria looked back up at her, her eyes focused once again.

“Max. I believe you.”

_Victoria, I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you, but I ended up getting you caught too. Why do I keep messing everything up. We are going to get out of here. I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes._

Max scanned her surroundings. The pain in her head subsided, and her eyes finally adjusted to the dark. What she saw changed everything.

_No. This can’t be happening._

__________________________________

“David please! You’ve got to just fucking listen to me for once,” Chloe shouted into the phone, tears staining her cheeks.

Chloe made a sharp turn, the wheels of Warren’s small blue car screeched in protest. Warren gripped the side of the door white-knuckled, while he pressed his back deeper into the passenger seat.

“Ok, ok. I’m listening. What’s going on,” David said, his gruff voice sounding strained even through the speaker.

“He took Max, David.  Nathan Prescott took her to some perverted torture bunker under a barn. Whatever shit we have to deal with doesn’t matter right now. I just need your help getting her back, please,” Chloe said, the final word coming out as a sob.

“Jesus, Chloe. I believe you. Just, god damn it, you should have come to me sooner.”

“Just please, hurry.”

“Send me the address, and I’ll bring the backup. But, for you mother’s sake please don’t do anything stupid. Let me and the police take care of this,” he paused, before adding. “I can’t see you get hurt.”

Chloe hung up without a word. No fucking way was she going to sit back and wait for step-douche and Arcadia’s laziest to show up while she sat around outside twiddling her thumbs. She was going to save Max no matter what.

_Please be ok. Please be ok. Please be ok._

There was a loud groan as Chloe gunned the little engine and the speedometer needle climbed in a gradual arc. The soft yellow beams of the headlights only just illuminated the road Chloe was overtaking.

“Chloe slow down!” Warren protested as Chloe made another reckless turn. 

Slow down? No, there was no way she was going to waste even a second if Max was in danger. The photos she had seen in the Dark Room rose in her mind unbidden and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Chloe. Please,” Warren began, his voice shaking. “I’m just as worried as you are, but we can’t help Max if we kill ourselves first!”

Chloe let out a breath and eased her foot off the gas, the car slowing. Warren was right. Max wasn’t around to fix her mistakes anymore. No more do overs.

Chloe couldn’t believe all of this was happening. Everything had changed for her this week. It was like she’d woken up in some kind of fantastical dream. Max, time travel, alternate realities and murder mysteries, a torture chamber under a barn. This dream was starting to become a nightmare. David’s gun felt heavy in her coat pocket, the cool metal pressing against her burning skin. Would it even help if she used it?

_Why can’t I just get a grip? Don’t make things worse than they already are._

 “I just. I just can’t lose her,” Chloe sighed. 

Warren looked out the window with a slight frown.

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” he said. 

The way he said it got under Chloe’s skin. Like he was the victim of some tragic heartbreak. Chloe let out an exhausted laugh.

“Dude are you seriously pulling that shit now?”

“I-I’m not pulling anything.”

“Dude, it’s so painfully obvious that you want to get into Max’s pants.  It’s embarrassing.”

Warren turned to face Chloe, his face sour.

“Oh you think I’m embarrassing? Who the hell texts a guy they don’t even know to gloat about a kiss? Who’s really ‘out of the loop’?”

Chloe gritted her teeth, gripping the wheel hard.

“Well maybe if you had just taken a hint and turned the creep factor down a notch or twelve, I wouldn’t have to rub your nose in it to get you to back off.”

“I just wanted to show her I was interested!” Warren snapped in defense, his arm flying up in frustration.

“Yeah, she could fucking tell dude. You scared her with that constant-texting-secret picture-in-your-locker-shit. Stalker much?”

Warren’s face fell at that, his shoulders slumping. The fight seemed to have left him, replaced with something else.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. His gaze fell to his ragged knuckles. Mementos from his savage beating of Nathan earlier that day. His voice became small and brittle with fear. “Was she really afraid of me?”

Chloe realized then that she might have pushed things a little too far. She sighed.

“Hey. I didn’t. . . You weren’t,” Chloe tried. “Ugh, dude you’re like seventeen and you had a crush on a girl who didn’t feel the same way. You’ve just got to know when to move on. . .  I guess I can relate to that.”

Chloe seemed to surprise herself for that final admission. Warren looked up from his hands at her.

“Yeah. Sorry I got so defensive. I messed up didn’t I?”

“I know you want her to be safe. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” Chloe said, her eyes back on the road. “And sorry for getting so bitchy. We’re both on edge.”

“This is all so messed up,” Warren sighed.

_Understatement of the fucking millennium, dude._

They sat there in silence for a moment, lost in their own worries and insecurities. Warren was the first to break it.

“So how did you guys even find this place, this uh, Dark Room?” Warren asked her, breaking the spell of her thoughts.

Chloe did her best to bring Warren up to speed. Her and Max’s investigation so far, the evidence against Nathan and what they found under that barn. Warren blanched when Chloe described the disturbing photography studio and the binders they found.      

“That’s . . . It’s like something out of a bad horror movie,” he said with a nervous laugh. Something seemed to dawn on him and he frowned. “Is that what happened to Kate?”

Chloe nodded, and Warren reached his hands up to his head. He looked ill. The fact that he was still a little drunk probably wasn’t helping.

After a few minutes of silence, Chloe made the turn onto the private road that led to the old Prescott property. But as the car churned over the dirt through the woods, they could tell something was wrong. Smoke was billowing through the trees, and in the distance an orange glow cast dancing shadows.

Chloe stopped the car, and jumped out, with Warren just behind her. They were struck by a wave of heat and the acrid stink of black smoke. The barn was burning.

“Shit!” Chloe shouted, breaking into a sprint down to the end of the road.

The barn door was wide open, and flames were raging like flags in a hurricane. Chloe gagged on the smoke. She took the beanie off her head and shoved it over her mouth and nose. Inside she could see the hatch leading to the Dark Room was open and billowing a thick black cloud of smoke.

“Max!” she shouted.

Chloe took a step inside the burning barn, her eyes stinging from the cloud and heat. She coughed out Max’s name again as she made her way deeper into the barn, avoiding open patches of flame.

There was a loud crack above her head and she suddenly found herself being pulled backwards with a violent tug. The roof had partially collapsed, a large burning beam had landed at her feet where she had been standing a moment before.

“It’s coming down!” Warren cried out.

 “Max is down there! We can’t leave her!” Chloe wailed, fighting against Warren’s grip.

“C’mon. Don’t do this.”

Chloe found herself growing weak, her body drifting out of the barn at Warren’s insistence. They just made it outside when the barn was engulfed, and the woods around them danced with the light and shadow of the flames. They collapsed far back from the heat, in a fit of coughs.

With an angry growl, the old barn collapsed in on itself, its dying breath a gust of heat and a cloud of sparks raining down from the sky. Chloe lay on her back, exhausted, numb, in shock.

_This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening._

Before Chloe knew it she was sobbing, her body seizing with the strength of her cries. Warren tried to talk to her but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the flames and the creaking of the trees in the wind.

By the time she got ahold of herself, David and the police had arrived. She felt a strong grip on her arm, and she was hoisted to her feet and wrapped into a hug.

“Oh god, Chloe. You’re safe.”

Chloe could barely register David’s voice, and was surprised to find herself returning the hug, desperate in that moment for any shred of comfort. He pushed her away gently for a moment, looking down at Chloe’s side. He pulled the gun out of her pocket, she did nothing to protest. David swore under his breath, hiding the gun away in his own shirt. For a moment it looked like he was going to tear into her, but he stopped when he saw the look on her face.

Soon, paramedics were placing an oxygen mask on Chloe’s face as she was escorted over to an ambulance with Warren. She resisted them as they tried to pull her inside. She needed to know if Max was in there.  Fire crews did their best to control the blaze, but it wasn’t until the sky above began to rain that the blaze burned itself out.

The rain hissed on the dying flames, steam rising from the wreckage into the night like a trail of ghosts. Chloe watched as the fire crew hacked there way inside what was left of the Dark Room. After several minutes they stepped out. David rushed over to one of them. Chloe couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she felt as if her heart froze in place when David turned to look at her.

_I can’t lose you too._

It seemed as though an age had passed by the time David reached her. She could read nothing from his face or his posture. Max was dead. Max was alive. It was both and it was none.

“No bodies. She wasn’t inside, Chloe.”

The words hit Chloe like a freight train and she felt herself fall back into the ambulance, fatigue overwhelming her.

“We’ll find her, Chloe. I promise you that,” David shouted as the ambulance doors were shut.

Chloe looked over at Warren who sat beside her, smiling despite the stream of tears falling down his cheeks.

_Hold on a little longer, Max. We’re coming for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay on this chapter, hopefully I'll be able to get more time to work on future chapters in the coming days.


	3. Picking Up the Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 song:
> 
>  _Take Me Somewhere Nice_ Mogwai

Chloe hated hospitals. They smelled like bleach and cheap soap. The lights were always too bright, and her shoes squeaked on the polished linoleum even after they were dry from the rain. She hated the quiet desperation that permeated the halls. It was like you could feel all the bad memories that have been made in this place. Behind every door someone could be having the worst day of their life.

_I need a cigarette._

No way in hell that was going to happen though, doctors’ orders. She and Warren had been lucky, or as lucky as they could be given the circumstances. The smoke inhalation was negligible. Warren got the worst of it, but it only managed to give him a sporadic cough. He sat in the corner of the hospital room on a chair, his head leaned back, lost in thought. He looked exhausted.

Chloe wasn’t doing much better. It was already close to midnight, and she was so emotionally and physically worn out from everything that happened that day and the all nighter that she and Max had pulled. She felt numb. Maybe a few hours of sleep would help pick her up. But how could she even think about sleeping with Max out there somewhere?

_Max._

Chloe rested her head in her hands. She had dragged Max into all of this. Max came here to pursue her dreams and begin a wonderful life as a photographer and Chloe put her life in danger to fix _her_ problems. God, she was so fucking selfish. Max had moved on hadn’t she? She was fine leaving her behind for five years. Chloe got on Warren’s case for not taking a hint, but what did those five years say about how Max felt? Maybe Chloe should have just left things the way they were.

_Don’t think like that. Max cares. Max cares a whole fucking lot._

 It had felt so fucking good to have Max back in her life. She’d wanted to stay mad at first, but it was impossible. Despite all the shit that’d gone down this week, Chloe had felt _happy_. Something she never thought she’d get to feel again.

 She felt something else too. It had seemed like nothing at first. Just the high of having her best friend back in her life. But as the week went on, she realized that it was more than that. Chloe would catch herself staring at Max longer than she should. Max was just so beautiful, more than Chloe had remembered. But maybe that wasn’t entirely true, the more Chloe thought about it. There had always been a special attraction to Max and a desire to never leave her side, even as a kid. Max was probably her first crush.

Chloe smiled despite herself.

 She had struggled to not make things weird when they swam in the Blackwell pool, but the night they spent together in her room made those feelings more difficult to ignore.

They had been so giddy from their close escape, and they struggled to stay quite as they ran up the stairs to Chloe’s room. Their clothes stank like chlorine and stuck to their skin. In the warm upstairs bedroom, they stripped down just as they had at the pool, and once again Chloe found herself averting her gaze from Max’s body. A light blush spread across her cheeks when Max removed her damp underwear and bra. They used to get dressed in front of each other all the time when they were younger, but now it felt different.

“Here take these,” Chloe had said, throwing Max a sugar skull t-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts.

“Aw. We used to share clothes all the time,” Max said, slipping the garments over her naked body.

“Yeah, back when I dressed like a geek too.”

“Oh shut up,” Max said, pressing a playful hand on Chloe’s shoulder.

A fire had lit in her chest at the touch. When they climbed into bed together, Chloe made a point to brush her foot against Max’s. Her heart raced with the thought of putting herself out there. She held a breath thinking at the possibilities. Where were these feelings coming from?

“Wow Max, it only took three days for you to climb in bed with me,” Chloe teased, wriggling her eyebrows, “Seattle changed you.”

“I _cannot_ believe you just said that,” Max said, deadpan.

Ouch. Didn’t take the bait.

But then Max scooted closer to her, and Chloe felt Max reach a cautious toe out towards her foot. “I missed this,” Max sighed, her face unreadable in the dark. “Missed you.”

Chloe could hear the guilt in her voice, the insecurity. She felt emboldened. Longing to hold Max, she reached out her arms to pull her best friend close. Max obliged, letting Chloe wrap her arms around her small frame.

“You’re here now,” Chloe had said, her voice soft and vulnerable.

Chloe could feel Max squeeze her arm. They lay together, their bodies pressed close, breath rising and falling gently until they drifted away. It was the best night sleep Chloe had had in years.

Chloe had flirted so hard the next morning it was embarrassing, she might as well have just thrown herself at Max. Well, she kind of did. Chloe still couldn’t believe that Max had actually kissed her. On a dare no less. Chloe wished she could have gone back to that moment. She was so surprised by her friend’s boldness that she broke the kiss almost as soon as it began, stumbling back and mumbling something stupid under her breath. For a moment, she felt like something between the two of them were possible. For a moment she forgot Rachel. But with that realization came a sudden maelstrom of guilt, confusion, and fear, and she once again distanced herself from her feelings.

Grappling with these memories was exhausting and that combined with the continuous patter of rain against the hospital window, Chloe was pulled deeper into her chair in the hospital room. Soon her eyelids grew heavy and she was granted the mercy of sleep.

When she woke up a few hours later, it was from the sound of Warren’s voice.

“Chloe, hey. Someone here to see us.”

Chloe sat up in her chair, blinking the fatigue from her eyes. She was surprised to see that Kate Marsh stood in front of her, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. Her hands were locked together in a loose tangle of fingers, slender thumbs running over one another in a gentle back and forth motion. There was a sad smile on her face.

“You must be Chloe.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, standing up to greet Kate.

The three of them stood in silence, unsure of how to proceed. Chloe was confused as to exactly what the girl was doing in the room with them.

Warren seemed to pick up on this.

“I, uh, called Kate. I knew she was still in the hospital and I . . . ,” Warren paused, scratching the back of his head. “. . . I figured she deserved to know what’s going on.”

“How much does she know?”

“Warren told me enough,” Kate said, her voice was hard.  “I know that Max needs our help. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Chloe was surprised to see the fire that burned in the girl’s eyes. There was a fierce determination that belied Kate’s frail appearance.

“Look, I really appreciate that and I know that Max means a lot to you too, but. . .” Chloe trailed off, Kate didn’t seem to be backing down so she finished the thought. “You haven’t even checked out of the hospital, and things could get hella fucking dangerous.”

Kate stood up a little straighter, it would have seemed a comical attempt at intimidation if not for the passion in her voice.

“I owe Max my life. She was there for me when nobody else was,” Kate said as Warren’s gaze fell to the floor. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t do the same for her.”

Chloe nodded. Kate wouldn’t back down any more than she would have. She smiled. Maybe this is how David felt dealing with her.

_How’d you manage to find friends like these, Max?_

“Alright, where do we start?”  Chloe asked, looking at the other two.

“Well, let’s start with what we know so far,” Warren began. “Nathan took Max at the Vortex Club party. He slashed your tires and then he drove her to the Dark Room so he could torch the evidence. Then he drove her somewhere else, I guess?”

Warren’s brow furrowed.

“But that doesn’t really make any sense. How could he have done all that without being seen and without us catching up to him? There was only one road to the barn, and we never saw him come out of it.”

Chloe chewed at her lip, lost in thought.

“Yeah. I mean, I only lost track of Max for maybe fifteen minutes. No way that’s enough time,” she said.

_What the fuck. This shit didn’t make any sense._

“Um, he could be working with someone else?” Kate offered.

Chloe hadn’t considered this. It would make sense. After all, _somebody_ had to have helped set up the Dark Room. Nathan sure as hell didn’t pay for it all himself. Max had shown her the bill that Nathan’s father had signed off on. Was it possible his father was also hiring someone to help Nathan kidnap these girls? Talk about father of the year. But that also made this a lot more complicated. If Nathan wasn’t working alone, who could they trust? The Prescotts had a lot of influence in Arcadia Bay, and a lot of money to throw around. Hell, it could even be a cop.

“Shit, why didn’t we think of that?” Chloe asked to no one in particular.

“Well it doesn’t even matter if we don’t know where she is,” Warren said, “Where could he have taken her?”

The three of them stood, lost in thought, when the door opened. It was David and he stepped into the room.

“Chloe. We need to talk about some things, are you-” he said, the words catching in his throat when he saw Kate Marsh.

Kate looked away from David, her hand covering her arm.

“I, uh. I didn’t realize that Ms. Marsh, was. . .” David stuttered, refusing to make eye contact with the girl. “Could we talk outside for a moment?” 

“Yes sir,” Chloe said, somehow finding the strength for some sarcasm.

When the two of them were alone in the hallway, David did his best to recover from his awkward exchange with Kate.

“What is Kate Marsh doing in your room?” David asked.

“She came here because she’s worried about Max too. Max did save her from jumping off a roof after all.”

David looked away.

“I. . .How is she holding up?”

Chloe folded her arms across her chest, giving a humorless snort.

“What, like you care about her now? Have you even said anything to her since she got into the hospital? Give her a card or a flower even? A fucking balloon?”

David grimaced, angry at first, but then it bled away into something else. Chloe had never seen him look so tired.

“I’m not going to . . . explain myself to you right now,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to talk about what’s been going on this past week with you and Max.”

“Are you for real right now? We don’t have time for that shit. Why aren’t you out looking for Max?”

“There are people on it right now, but I came here to speak with you.”

“Well, I’m right here, David.”

David’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t meet Chloe’s challenge.

“How the hell did you and Max find that place?”

“We’ve been gathering evidence all week, doing what the police gave up on weeks ago. While you were out harassing students, Max and I were after that punk-ass Nathan, you know, the kid who brought a gun onto school grounds on _your_ watch,” Chloe growled.

“Hey, don’t give me that shit. I was doing my job trying to keep Blackwell safe. I knew that Nathan was a threat. I just . . . I just waited too long to neutralize him. Things are complicated with the Prescotts. I needed more evidence,” David said, his voice torn with indignation and regret. His shoulders were hunched as if each word that Chloe said to him weighed him down more and more.

“Well look at how fucking well that turned out for Kate. For Max! For . . . for Rachel,” Chloe said, the fight leaving her voice at Rachel’s name. Her shoulders slumped, and she could no longer look at David in the eye.

David let out a breath, the realization clicking into place.

“Oh god . . . You . . . You found Rachel Amber. Didn’t you?” he said, his voice was softer now.

“Nathan . . . Nathan buried her in a fucking junkyard. Jesus Christ, I must have walked over her dozens of times. She was right under my feet, the . . . the. . .” Chloe couldn’t finish the words, they made her sick. Her hands were shaking as she brought them to her face.

David reached a hand to put on Chloe’s shoulder but she brushed it away.

“Just, please, don’t,” Chloe sighed. “Not right now.”

Chloe pushed the grief down. Not yet. Not yet.

“God damn it,” David said suddenly, stepping away from Chloe. “I was so damn wrong.”

Chloe looked up at him surprised, but didn’t say anything.

“I wasted so much goddamn time. Chased all the wrong leads. I had all the high-tech toys, while you two had each other. You did in a week what I couldn’t do in months.”

David paced the hallway, fists at his side. He was ready for a fight, but the enemy he seemed to be battling against was himself.

“David. Your files helped us a lot. You got most of the pieces, we just put them together,” Chloe said. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was trying to comfort him. Maybe it was because they now had a common foe, or maybe it was the fact that he seemed genuinely remorseful. Or maybe she was just tired.

David seemed to calm down a bit, grateful for something other than vitriol from Chloe.

“I admit, I’m impressed with you two, and your investigation. I just, hope it wasn’t for nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Chloe said, sensing bad news.

“That’s uh. . .why I wanted to come talk to you,” he said, shifting on his feet. “The whole bunker was totally torched. Talking with the guys in the field, it doesn’t seem like there’s going to be much left in the way of evidence. And Sean Prescott is making a huge stink. He’s threatening the department with a lawsuit if they put out an APB on his son. That rat bastard.”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to be angry. They had him. They fucking _had_ him. Pictures of the victims, paperwork, the computer, everything. Overwhelming evidence they could have used to bury Nathan Prescott. Not even his rich daddy would be able to pull him out of it. Hell, they could have buried him with it too.

“I’m so fucking stupid. We should have gone to the cops. We . . . I tried to go it on my own, and I fucked it up.”

“Chloe, we all make choices we regret. But maybe we still have time to make things right.”

“Yeah,” Chloe’s gaze fell to the floor. “I want to believe that, David.”

They stood there without speaking, the light from the ceiling casting shadows under their eyes. A nurse walking by with her chart stepped through the gulf between them. Chloe used this as an opportunity to break away. She turned towards the door, but David’s voice stopped her.

“Chloe. Here, take this,” David said, reaching out to her with his hand.

Chloe looked down to see the gun she had taken from David’s locker. She stared at it, mouth agape.

“I promised Joyce that I would protect the two of you. I know that you aren’t going to quit at this, so I’d like to think that this would help.”

“David, I . . . I don’t. . .” Chloe began.

David pressed the gun into her hand, along with a few extra rounds.

“Things are dangerous enough right now as it is. But don’t take this lightly. Don’t you go pointing this at someone unless you know you’re going to pull that trigger. I just hope it never comes to that.”

_Woah. Step-douche is handing me a gun? Maybe the world really is ending._

But as Chloe felt the weight of the metal in her hand, it no longer excited her the way it used to. How many times had this thing just escalated a situation?  How many times had Max had to rewind to keep her from using this?

_No more do overs, Chloe._

“I-I shouldn’t take this,” Chloe said, “I think it’s caused more harm than good this week.”

David looked surprised at her decision, but then he smiled.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Look, I’m going to get back out there. We are checking all of the obvious places, but without the full backing of the department, I don’t know how quickly we’ll find her. Just stay in touch, and if you learn anything let me know, I’ll do the same. We shouldn’t be working alone anymore.”

David slid the gun into his coat pocket, before turning to leave the way he came. Chloe found herself stopping him.

“Maybe we should stick with you. Like you said, we shouldn’t be working alone.”

“I. . .I really appreciate that Chloe, really I do. But, I don’t think we would work well with each other, especially considering the company you keep.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look. . . I treated Kate Marsh like shit. She’s a good person, and I’m not. I hope I get to tell her that someday, but now’s not really the time.”

The admission surprised Chloe, and it seemed like he wanted to say something more but then thought better of it.

“I think she’d appreciate that,” Chloe said, her voice softer than it ever had been with David.

 “Well, uh. . . anyway. I think you and I have different ways of going about things, and maybe that’s good. We’ll cover more ground this way. But as soon as you call, I’ll be there.”

Chloe nodded at David. But then she remembered something important.

“Hey. There is one other thing. We don’t think Nathan did this on his own. We don’t really know for sure, or even who it could be helping him, but just . . . watch your back out there, man.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, talking a few steps towards the way he came before turning to add, “We’ll find her.”

With those final words he walked down the shiny floors, boots squeaking with every step, out of the hospital and into the night.

When Chloe returned to the room, her thoughts were swimming. That interaction with David was _different_. She didn’t have much time to think about it. Max came first.

Warren and Kate looked at her, waiting for some indication of what the conversation was about. When Chloe offered nothing, Warren spoke up, pulling open the laptop and turning it to show her.

“I think we have a place to start.”

Chloe was taken aback. She recognized the title of the faded newspaper article scan lit on the screen.

“Prescott’s Bring Bomb Shelter Boom to Town”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying the ride! Thanks to everyone for reading and especially to those of you who leave comments and kudos! It always helps to brighten up the day!


	4. Cracks in the Slab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 Song:  
>  _Watcher_ \- Syd Matters
> 
> Bonus song!:   
> _Wonderful! Wonderful! _\- Johnny Mathis__

_This can’t be happening._

Max could now see that this was not the Dark Room. It was similar in some respects, the space was lit with harsh white lights and the surfaces were of plain concrete, and it oozed a malicious aura that Max could almost taste. But where the Dark Room had been designed with modern tastes, this room felt like it was a hospital stuck in the fifties. The chair that Max sat in was rusted in places, and the air smelt like dust and strong alcohol. The center of the room was covered in plastic sheeting hung on metal racks. Through the plastic film she could see the silhouette of a metal surgical slab. The sight made her heart rise up in her throat. She thought she might stop breathing.

  _What the hell is this place? Why would Mr. Jefferson take us here and not the Dark Room?_

She fought at the restraints at her hands and feet, hoping that she’d be able to get one of her limbs free. Her left foot managed to tear free of the tape that bound it, but her other restraints were of a thicker material and refused to budge. She stopped struggling once the straps began to bite into her skin. For a moment, Max was overwhelmed with the realization that no one knew where she was. Tears began to pool in her eyes, her breath becoming more rapid.

_No Max, you can’t lose hope. For Victoria’s sake, at least. Chloe . . . Chloe is still out there. She’s not going to stop until she finds you._

Max swallowed the fear.

“Victoria, are you still with me?” Max asked, turning to look down at the prone girl.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, “I still can’t move very well, but I think it might be starting to wear off.”

That was good. Once Victoria could move a little more freely, they might be able to figure something out. Max scanned her surroundings more. Directly to her right was a small surgical cart, on it were several drug vials, as well as a row of surgical tools. The silvery instruments sent a chill up Max’s spine. To her left against the wall was a tall wire rack filled with medical supplies. It was hard to make out what was in the back of the room, but she could tell there was some sort of desk in the corner lit by a green table lamp like the one her grandpa had once owned.

“Victoria. I think if you could crawl over to the cart over there, you could find something to cut through your restraints with,” Max said.

“Ok. Let me try,”

Victoria struggled to move her body with her bound hands and feet. She was still weak from the sedative, but she was in a much easier position to move not being tied down to a chair like Max was. Victoria bent her body like she was curling up, trying to shimmy her way around to face the cart. She managed to turn part of the way before there was a sharp metal grating sound.

“Victoria!” Max said, shushing her. “We can’t let him know we’re awake.”

Max and Victoria froze, both trying their best to remain still and silent. Max went limp in her chair, allowing her head to lull forward in an attempt to hide her face.

From around an unseen corner, the sound of footsteps walking down concrete steps as well as Jefferson’s voice, heralded the arrival of their captor. He did not sound happy.

“-cannot believe this. How could you just burn it all? Months of work wasted. Those photos were irreplaceable.”

Mark Jefferson strode into the bunker, his leather shoes echoing on the concrete.

 “You promised me we were in on this together. I’m not doing this for free.”

Max could hear him pacing on the other side of one of the plastic sheets. Max didn’t want to risk lifting her head up to look, but she was pretty sure that he was talking on his cellphone.

“Yes, yes I understand that . . . no, I’m not saying that at all . . . I just, I just wish that you would consult me on things before just doing something drastic like this.”

He seemed to be back pedaling, some of the anger leaving his voice. He paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other end of the line.

“I’ve got both of them here now.”

Max’s heart felt like it stopped beating for a second, she hoped she hadn’t jumped in her seat. She could feel Mr. Jefferson looking at her as his footsteps got closer and closer.

“I think you’ll be very interested, but of course I’ll need you here before anything more is done.”

Max felt sick being this close to him, but she knew she couldn’t show it. She didn’t want to have to use her rewind unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I’ll be waiting,” Mr. Jefferson said, ending the phone call.

The room was silent again, almost like Max and Victoria were alone again, but she knew better. She could _feel_ him looking at her.

“Are you awake, Max?” Mr. Jefferson asked as he tapped his foot against her own.

She couldn’t help but react. Twitching away on instinct.

“I thought so.”

Max looked up, seeing Mr. Jefferson standing in front of her looking smug.

With a thought Max rewound time, her vision blurring.

_I can’t react. Just sit still Max. Don’t let him drug you again._

“I’ll be waiting,” Mr. Jefferson said, ending the phone call.

The room was silent, but Max knew where Mr. Jefferson was. She focused herself.

_Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move._

“Are you awake, Max?” Mr. Jefferson asked as he tapped his foot against her own once again.

She remained motionless, her breath shallow. Mr. Jefferson hummed.

“So peaceful,” he said, before walking away back towards the desk.

She almost breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped away from her again, but her relief was shattered when he spoke.

“What about you Ms. Chase? You were never one to fall asleep in class,” He said, kicking at Victoria’s legs.

To her credit, Victoria remained still. Mr. Jefferson sighed.

“How about some music ladies? Won’t be anything like what I had. . .,” his voice trailed off in bitterness, “But this dusty old bunker still has some dusty old records.”

_How . . . how can he be so casual about all this? It’s sick._

He hummed softly to himself as he thumbed through a box of records near the desk in the corner. After a moment he made a soft sound of approval. He slid the record out of its sleeve and onto the record player.

The silence was broken by the whisper pop of the record spinning on, it filled the hard concrete room with soft sonic wool. Then the speaker warbled out a resonant cord and an eerie whistle, followed by a soft, soulful voice.

_~ Sometimes we walk hand and hand by the sea, and we breathe in the cool salty air. ~_

“Have you kids even heard of Johnny Mathis?” Mr. Jefferson said, walking back over to Victoria and Max. “Or do you only listen to that indie folk crap?”

_~ “Then your lips cling to mine! It’s Wonderful! Wonderful! ~_

He began to hum along with the melody. Max could hear another sound, just audible above the song. A soft click that she could remember from before.

Was Mr. Jefferson photographing them?

_This is . . .is so surreal. Why the fuck is he doing this?_

_~ What a moment to share! It’s wonderful! Wonderful! Oh so wonderful, my love. ~_

Mr. Jefferson kept humming, snapping away with his expensive digital camera. Max fought the urge to vomit.

Click.

~I feel the glow, of your unspoken love. I’m aware of the treasure that I own! ~

Click. Click. Click.

Max unconsciously balled her fists. She was terrified, but that fear was beginning to turn into rage. How could Mr. Jefferson be doing this? He was a world famous photographer. What did he have to gain by doing something like this? Was he really just crazy?

_~ And I say to myself, it’s wonderful! Wonderful! SCRTCH . . . Wonderful! Wonderful!  . . . SCRTCH~_

Mr. Jefferson groaned, stopping his photoshoot as he turned away back to the looping record player. Max took this opportunity to look up. He swept aside one of the plastic sheets with a _woosh._

_~ .  . .Wonderful! Wonderful! SCRTCH~_

Max looked down at Victoria, who was staring up at her too. She gave her a look that asked what the plan was. Max didn’t have an answer.

The record continued its loop. The words repeating over and over again.  Mr. Jefferson lifted the needle, plunging the room in silence again.

“Hunk of junk.”

Once again there was a sharp grating noise as the bunker door opened around the corner. Mr. Jefferson turned as Nathan Prescott stepped inside. His face was cut and bruised from when Warren had beaten him earlier. It still looked like it hurt.

“Finally. I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Mr. Jefferson snapped. “You stink like gasoline.”

“Yeah. Well I had to go clean up _your_ mess!”

“You shouldn’t talk to me like that, Nathan.”

“Yeah. Right. Sure. And maybe you should be more grateful, considering I brought this.”

Max risked a glance upwards, Nathan was holding one of the red binders from the Dark Room, as well as an external hard drive.

“I . . . I didn’t realize,” Mr. Jefferson began. “Thank you Nathan, I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“Alright. Fine,” Nathan said, before pausing. “Hey, what the fuck is Victoria doing here?”

Max swallowed as Nathan strode across the bunker over to where she was sitting. She could hear his breathing from here. He was on edge.

“She was on the list, Nathan, you know that,” he said, placing a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll put her back right where we found her. Just like the others.”

“She . . . She didn’t see you?”

“Of course not. But you should be prepared for the worst, Nathan. You knew that from the start,” Mr. Jefferson said.

Nathan broke from his grip as Jefferson continued.

“Not like Max, though. She won’t be making it out either way. Such a waste of talent.”

 Mr. Jefferson sighed.

Max’s heart was thundering in her chest. She’d never been so terrified by a conversation in her entire life. Two people were casually discussing her death. Like it was nothing. Was it like this with Rachel? Her eyes began to sting with tears.

“Well that’s what you get huh, Max?” Nathan said his voice cracking. “For sticking your nose in other people’s business!”

Max was forced to rewind the moment several times, unable to keep her composure through the onslaught. After a few attempts, she was able to remain motionless, but the words weren’t any easier to hear again.

Mr. Jefferson’s phone began to buzz. Max heard him sigh as he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Great. . . I’ve got to take this, Nathan.”

Mr. Jefferson answered in an urgent tone as he walked towards the exit, then the conversation was covered up by the sound of the bunker door opening and shutting once again.

Nathan continued to pace across the room muttering to himself, though Max couldn’t make out the words. Then, she began to hear a soft sound to her left. Her heart sank when she realized that it was Victoria, crying.

Nathan stopped pacing.

“N-Nathan, why are you doing this?” Victoria asked, her voice was soft, but in the confines of the bunker she may as well have shouted it.

_Victoria, what are you thinking?_

Nathan grew rigid, his hands shaking.

“Victoria? he asked, his voice strained, “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Nathan, this isn’t like you at all. What did Mr. Jefferson do to you?”

Nathan walked over to Victoria, looking down at her. He quickly turned away once he saw that she was looking right at him.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” he said, frantic. “You weren’t supposed to see me. You weren’t supposed to see any of this.”

Nathan grabbed at his head, his eyes welling with tears. His expensive shoes scuffed on the coarse surface of the floor. He made a noise, a childlike whimper. It was the noise of someone who was at war with themselves and losing.

“Please, just let me and Max go. We won’t tell anyone about this. . .you, could help us put Mr. Jefferson away forever.”

“Let you go? Let you go?! I can’t do that,” Nathan said, walking over to the metal surgical cart.

He pulled out a syringe and a drug vial. His hands were shaking as he drew the clear liquid out of the glass. He didn’t even look to see how much he’d taken.

“I can just put you back to sleep. You won’t remember anything. It’ll just be like a bad dream, ok?”

_No, he could kill her!_

“No, Nathan, just let us go,” Victoria sobbed, “Just let us go.”

Max used her rewind, the shadow of Nathan scrambling backwards. Max needed to think fast. Was there any way for her to warn Victoria not to speak up? Max couldn’t think of any way that didn’t involve giving herself up.

“Nathan,” Max said, looking up at him.

He froze. Victoria didn’t make a sound thankfully, she must have been waiting to see what Max had planned.

“So, you’re awake. Great. He’s getting sloppy.”

He went to the syringe.

“What’s the point of all this Nathan? What do you and Jefferson want?”

Nathan drew out the dose and spoke without looking up.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Caulfield? You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you.”

He stepped over towards her, he seemed confident, but there was a slight tremor in the hand where he held the needle.

“I think you’d be surprised. I’ve had a really fucked up week,” Max said.

Nathan laughed, but his face remained a scowl.

“Oh yeah you have, fucking up my week! You should have backed the fuck off. Just you wait, after we get rid of you, that blue haired bitch is next.”

Fury rose in Max’s chest. She leapt forward against the restraints.

“Don’t fucking touch her you creep!”

Nathan laughed.

“Oh my God, you’re so pathetic.”

Max felt hot angry tears roll down her cheek.

“It’s not pathetic to take care of your friends, Nathan. How could you do this to Victoria?”

The smile fell from Nathan’s face.

“Hey! I didn’t want to bring her here. I had no choice,” he said as he looked away from Max. He was talking to himself now more than her. “As long as she doesn’t wake up, she won’t remember any of this. . . It’ll all just be a bad dream.”

“You always have a choice, Nathan,” Max said, blinking the last of her tears away.

Nathan scowled at her.

“Don’t give me that bullshit! You have no idea, what I’m dealing with.”

“You’re right, Nathan. I don’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help me understand.”

Nathan shook his head.

“Wow, you’d say anything just to get what you want? You’re just like Jefferson _and_ my Dad. Everyone keeps trying to control me.”

“Then don’t let them, Nathan. If . . . If you won’t let me go. Take Victoria out of here. I know you don’t give a shit if I die. But you will _never_ forgive yourself for letting her get hurt. She trusted you, Nathan.”

Nathan’s cold eyes stared at Max, but she returned his gaze, unwavering. His lip quivered for a moment, but he said nothing else. Instead he walked over to the tray of surgical tools, and flung them to the ground in a fit. One of the steel scalpels scattered over towards Max’s unrestrained foot, she managed to pull it beneath her shoe.

_Fuck yes! You better rewind with me little scalpel._

With a motion of the hand and some concentration, she pulled herself back to the moment she had spoken to Victoria last.

“Victoria, are you still with me?”

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered.

Max smiled as she kicked the scalpel over towards Victoria’s bound hands.

“Good. I think I have a way to get us out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a lot longer to get through that I had initially thought, mostly because I spent a lot of time making sure I had the later events of the story properly planned out and I wasn't writing myself into any corners. But I think I've got everything squared away, and the story will be taking some big turns! 
> 
> And don't worry, the gang will be reunited soon! Or at least. . .well, you'll see. 
> 
> Another note: I will be traveling to Seattle (Just like Max!) and will most likely not have as much time to work on chapter five as I'd like to. But hopefully I'll get it out to you all ASAP. Thank you all for reading!


	5. Echoes through the Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Didn't get much of a chance to write while I was away. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Chapter 5 song _Pretend to Forget_ \- Message to Bears

“Well, what do you think?” Warren asked, looking over Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe rubbed her strained eyes, scanning the pages Warren and Kate had pulled up on Kate’s laptop. They had spent the time since David left scouring the internet for any information they could find about bunkers in Arcadia Bay.  There were several news articles regarding fallout shelters constructed by the Prescott family throughout the years since the late fifties. It seemed the Prescotts had made a hefty profit in the construction of them at the height of cold war tensions, even getting as far as securing public funding for the building of a few public shelters in Arcadia Bay.

“I mean . . . you said the Dark Room was full of food and survival stuff too. It was probably a similar shelter to these older ones,” said Warren, unsure if Chloe had picked up on his line of thinking yet.

“You think Max is in an old fallout shelter?”

“It makes sense doesn’t it? It would be the perfect place to hide her.”

Chloe wasn’t sure. It seemed like it could be possible, but was it really worth spending the time looking into?

 _Not like we have any other ideas.  
_ “Ok. How many are there in Arcadia bay?”

“We think there could be ten of them,” Kate said, trying to be positive about it.

“Ten? Holy shit, how are we supposed to narrow that down?” Chloe said, her temper rising.

Kate and Warren wilted a bit, then took over the laptop, and navigated to some other pages to show Chloe.

“Well, a lot of them have been documented as filled in. Something about subpar construction practices. Figures right?” Warren said with a nervous chuckle.

“I used to hear rumors at my church about a little boy who almost died falling into one,” Kate added.

Chloe seemed to perk up a little bit at this, reading at the information on the page. Warren used this to rally.

 “So there are most likely only two of them left. Both of them the ones commissioned by the city,” Warren said, pulling up map of Arcadia bay. “There is one under the old Arcadia Bay library, and one in the hills over by the lighthouse.”

Shit. Those places were on opposite sides of town and they’d already wasted so much time already. The library was closer to the hospital, they could easily get there in ten minutes. Chloe reached into her jean’s pockets and pulled out her phone. They would need help on this one.

She did her best to explain the situation to David in a rapid series of texts. He better respond quick, damn it.

“Alright well what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s check it out,” Chloe said, throwing on her jacket and walking towards the door. Warren and Kate scrambled to gather their things and follow her. As they walked down the hallway, Warren turned to Kate.

“Kate, are you sure you’re going to be ok . . . like can you even leave the hospital?”

“Well, let’s just say that we shouldn’t let the doctors see me walking out,” Kate said. When Warren and Chloe gave her a look, she giggled. “What can I say, Max brings out my rebellious side.”

Chloe wondered if she should feel jealous hearing that, but that feeling was smothered by a genuine respect for Kate’s unwavering support for Max.  

_Holy shit. Maybe Kate’s a secret badass . . . just like Max._

They were in the stairwell when David texted her back. He seemed skeptical at their conclusion, but he was willing to trust them. Chloe was thankful he was finally listening to something she said for once.

                **[David]:** I’m headed out there now. If you’re right, one of us will find her. If it’s you call me immediately and I will be there. Don’t do anything stupid.

                **[Chloe]:** Same for u

They stepped out into the night and were immediately buffeted by wind and rain. The weather had deteriorated since Chloe and Warren had arrived in the hospital earlier that night, and the parking lot was already filled with tiny pools of water that reflected the orange streetlights like rippling mirrors.

Chloe was the first to reach Warren’s car, but she walked around the passenger side. They’d been lucky that David had convinced the police to take Warren’s car to the hospital after the fire at the Dark Room. Chloe didn’t like the fact that she was starting to owe David more and more as the night progressed. She supposed he might actually deserve a thank you at some point.

Warren unlocked the doors and they all stepped inside, thankful to be out of the rain. The little blue car slipped out of the parking lot and onto the road as Warren tried his best not to speed through the storm soaked streets. The windshield wipers swiped back and forth in a constant rhythm like the ticking of a clock as they glided through the night. The drive passed in tense silence, everyone too afraid to speak as if it might slow them down somehow.

The old Arcadia Bay Library was an ugly, angular, stucco building in one of the most run down streets in town. Surrounded by shuttered storefronts and failing yellow streetlights, it was a reminder as to just how hard Arcadia Bay had fallen in recent times.  The structure itself was a throwback to the 1960s, when it was donated to the city by the Prescott family. Chloe wondered if they thought it was hideous back then too. It had been abandoned for years, since the construction of a newer library closer to downtown. It was just one more thing left to rot in Arcadia Bay.  The car screeched to a halt at the edge of the parking lot, the vehicle filling up two spots.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as they sat together, glancing at each other as the rain pattered against the windshield. There was so much uncertainty. This might not even be the right place, and if it was, they all knew what they could find.

“Let’s do this,” Chloe said her voice like iron.

Warren and Kate nodded and stepped out of the car. The three of them ran towards the library, shoes slapping against the wet asphalt.

“The entrance should be around the back of the building . . .” Warren said before stopping. “Wait, I gotta get something from the car.”

He turned without missing a beat and went back towards the lot. Chloe and Kate continued without him around the back of the building. There they found the two metal doors that led down to the shelter, marked by a faded yellow fallout sign lit by a single flickering light. The doors were flat iron and slightly rusted, the handles were locked through with a heavy chain and padlock.

Chloe swore, pulling at the chain with her hand. Why didn’t they think it would be locked?

“What do we do?” Kate asked.

Chloe paced, pushing her wet blue hair from her eyes. She could try picking the lock, but that could take too long. She wasn’t able to do it in the principal’s office and that was a way less pressure intensive situation. Max could be down there. She could need help right _now._  Chloe tried to come up with something but then Warren came back from the car, a tire iron and a flashlight clutched in his hands.

“Figured we might need these,” he said with a smile.

Chloe took the tire iron from his hands without a word. She gripped it tightly in both hands and slammed it downwards onto the rusted padlock with a sharp metal _clang._ The lock seemed unharmed so Chloe smashed it again and again; letting her temper run away with her. She stopped when her hands became rigid with cold and sting.

“It’s not working,” Kate sighed.

“Maybe we should try something else,” Warren said.

“We don’t have time for this shit,” Chloe growled.

She wrapped the tire iron around the chain, twisting it until it became taught. She gripped both ends of the tire iron like a handle and pulled. The metal groaned with the strain as Chloe grunted with exertion. Then Kate stepped behind Chloe, placing her arms under the other girl’s shoulders, and pulled back with her. Warren seeing this reached around Kate as well, with some hesitation, and pulled.

The old metal handles creaked as the three of them pulled again, but did not give. The rescue party let go for a second, trying to catch their breath, shaking the stiffness from their limbs and fingers.

“One. More. One more,” Chloe said between ragged breaths.

Chloe gripped the chain wrapped iron with both hands and placed her feet on the metal of the door. She put her whole body into the pull, Kate and Warren heaved as well. The metal gave.

The three of them fell backwards onto the wet pavement, the handles flying off the door. They scrambled to their feet and rushed to the cellar doors, gripping at the edges trying to pry it open. Kate managed to find purchase first, her small fingers fitting in between the gaps. She pushed it up enough for Warren and Chloe to help her lift the heavy iron door which fell with a sound like thunder.

They stared down into the opening, the first few concrete steps only just visible in the gloom.  Kate turned on the flashlight, pointing the silver beam of light into the shadow shrouded steps. Chloe gripped the tire iron in her fist, arm tense and ready. Warren picked up the fallen chain and padlock, and gulped.

They stepped downwards into the darkness together.

_______________________________________________

David Madsen sat behind the wheel of his idling car in the police station parking lot, the deep growl of the engine broken up by the sound of raindrops buffeting the windshield. He tried to figure out just how things had gotten so out of hand. He’d had a fight with Joyce, spurred on by that Max Caulfield girl, and gotten himself kicked out of the house. He spent most of the day sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, lost in his own head.

 David didn’t want to admit it, but he’d gotten himself into this mess. He had turned his own home into a surveillance state; violated the trust of the woman he loved most in the world, the woman who had saved his life. His own paranoia and stubbornness made him keep secrets from his wife, and what good had it done?

He failed his mission. He couldn’t keep Blackwell safe. He’d wasted months investigating all the wrong leads, everyone from Frank Bowers to Mark Jefferson, all completely wrong. He wanted to be a hero, but instead he just hurt the people he was supposed to protect. Kate Marsh could have died on that rooftop. Rachel Amber _was_ dead. And now Max was somewhere out there, alone and afraid, at the mercy of that punk shit Nathan Prescott.

David had to admit he hadn’t liked Rachel. She was a bad influence on Chloe when she needed a strong role model. But she never deserved to die. It had killed him to see Chloe talk about finding her. Poor, Chloe. She was out there too, looking for her best friend without a second thought as to the danger. David was proud of her for that. He’d have done the same for any one of his squad mates in the army. But how far was she willing to go?

He looked at the dashboard drawer where he’d put the revolver that Chloe had returned to him. He was still pissed she had taken it, but not as much as he would have been before recent events. Damn it, that girl was something else; a real hell raiser. David knew she was better than all this, but maybe she was about to prove him right.

_I’m not going to let him take away another friend from you, Chloe. That’s a promise._

He was shaken from his thoughts by a knock on his passenger side window. David reached over and unlocked the door, and a plainclothes officer Berry stepped into the car. He ran a hand through his receding black hair in an attempt to get dry.

“Jesus, it’s like a damn monsoon out there,” Berry said, as he buckled in.

“Well it’s not going to make the search any easier, that’s for sure,” David said as he pulled out onto the street. “Thanks for coming out with me.”

“Hey, what the hell. Not like I have anything better to do on a Thursday night . . . er, Friday morning now. Damn it’s late.”

“Well I’m not giving up yet. That girl is still out there, Anderson,” David said, his grip tightening on the wheel.

Officer Berry shifted in his seat.

“Look, I’ve been thinking, are you sure about this?” he said, “I mean, do you even know this girl is really missing?”

David glanced over at Berry, brows pinched in annoyance.

“Yeah. I’m pretty damn sure,” David said.

Officer Berry threw up his hands in mock defense.

“Woah, easy there. I know she’s a Blackwell student and all, but. . .”

“But, what?”

“Oh come on, David. This girl has only been gone for a few hours, and you said she was last seen at a Vortex Club party. She probably dipped out to go party somewhere else. I mean, you know what those art students are like.”

David had considered that. Max Caulfield was involved with drugs after all, and she’d gone as far as bringing dope into his own home. But after seeing that burning barn and speaking with Chloe, he was certain something terrible was happening. And now that he knew Rachel Amber was dead, he didn’t want to take any more chances.

“There’s something big going down, Anderson. I’ve been trying to figure out what for a long time now, and Max has gotten herself into a dangerous mess. You saw what that Prescott kid was hiding in that barn.”

Officer Berry sighed, fiddling with heater grill on the dashboard.

“That place gave me the creeps. But you should be careful about throwing those accusations around. I doubt you and Joyce could afford what those Prescott lawyers would squeeze out of you,” he said, concern slowing the words as they left his mouth.

David’s gaze drifted off the road and over to Officer Berry.

“Don’t give me that horseshit. The damn bunker was on Prescott owned property. There is no way in hell they aren’t involved. It’s all going to come crashing down on their heads, mark my words.”

“Fair enough. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be an easy case. Hell, they still won’t let us bring him in for questioning.”

David grimaced.

_Money’ll buy you anything these days._

David’s phone dinged in his pocket. It was a text from Chloe, detailing what she and the others had concluded about Max’s location. Something about abandoned fallout shelters out in the woods by the lighthouse under the abandoned library. David pulled over to the side of the road to read it more carefully. It seems those kids had been busy since he’d left. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Chloe from going after Max, he just hoped he would be the one to find her first. He texted out a quick response.

_If anything happened to you, Chloe . . . God, how could I live with myself?_

“What is it?” Berry asked.

“New lead,” David responded, pulling back onto the rain slicked road, gunning the engine. “What do you know about the old fallout shelter by the lighthouse?”

Officer Berry looked at him, surprised.

“I know it’s a place junkies like to hang out to get high. Why?”

“I think Prescott is hiding Max there.”

“That’s kind of a shot in the dark. Where are you getting this?” Berry asked, skeptical.

David was almost reluctant to answer, he kept his eyes on the road.

“Chloe.”

“Chloe,” Berry repeated. “Jesus, Madsen. Don’t take this the wrong way, I mean it, but Chloe Price isn’t exactly what I’d call a reliable source. You of all people should know that.”

“If it were any other day, I think I’d be inclined to agree. But I don’t think Chloe is messing around with this.” 

Joyce had informed him on some of Max and Chloe’s history. They’d been very close before . . . before Chloe’s father had passed. Maybe he would have gone a little easier on Max if he had known that. He wished that he could be more trusting of people, but that just wasn’t him anymore. He hated using his service as an excuse, but coming back from war was hard. Maybe that was part of why Chloe gave him so much grief. He signed up for war, she didn’t. It wasn’t fair of him to bring that kind of life into the home of a girl who had just lost her father. David started to realize that it might be time for him to admit that he’d screwed up her life more than he’d helped.

“Hey, David, wake up man. You’re going to miss the turn,” Berry said.

David shook his focus back onto the road ahead, the darkness and the rain making it difficult to see.

“Huh. I thought the lighthouse was further down the road?”

“There’s a little shortcut I know up ahead. It’s how we cut off the junkies from outrunning us.”

David made the turn onto a narrow country road. The sound of the rain quieted some as the car passed underneath the cover of the pines. David turned his brights on, the white beams growing into a bubble of light that glossed along the trunks and rocks that walled them in on either side.

A sense of unease passed over David, as if the shadows of the trees could be felt on his skin. He slowed the car somewhat, but not as much as he should have. He wasn’t going to risk taking too long.

“You really sure about this? We still haven’t checked out the bus stations, or even notified her parents yet,” Barry asked, looking up at the shadowy canopy above him.

“Yes, I’m sure damn it. Why the hell did you come anyway if you’re just going to complain the whole time?” David asked.

Barry sighed, but then suddenly he sat bolt upright, looking out of his window.

“Stop the car. Stop the car!”

David did so, trying to see what Berry was looking at.

“What? What is it?”

Berry stepped out of the car and broke out into a run.

“Hey! You there! Freeze!” Berry shouted.

David swore and undid his seatbelt. He leapt out of the car and broke out into a run, trying to follow in the direction Officer Berry had gone. He drew his gun from the holster on his hip.

“Berry! Berry, where the hell are you?” he called out.

David could hardly see in the darkness of the woods and there was no sign of Officer Berry anywhere, not even the sound of his footsteps or voice. There was nothing but the noise of the rain and wind pushing at the trees, a gentle steady whisper. As David ran, his mouth began to grow dry, and his palms began to itch.

There was an eruption of pain in his chest, and he suddenly found himself on his back. His gun went flying out of his hands, somewhere into the darkness.  He tried to speak, but the wind was knocked from his chest.

Officer Berry stood over him, a large tree branch in his hands.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Berry sighed. “Poor bastard.”

Officer Berry dropped the stick, and drew his gun. A shot of adrenaline surged through him at the sight of the weapon. David’s army training kicked in, even after all these years. He slammed his foot forward, catching the police officer in the knee. He cried out in pain, the gun going off in his hand as he stumbled backwards. The bullet smacked into David’s shoulder. His cry of pain echoed in the woods.

David rolled over onto his belly and he pushed himself upwards onto his feet, despite the pain. He saw Berry had stumbled back away from him, too far to risk rushing at. David couldn’t see his dropped gun, and there was no time to look for it. Time to reposition.

_Retreat. Rally. React._

David sprinted into the woods, not looking back. He weaved around trees, clutching at his bleeding shoulder. He didn’t have time to think about why this was happening. There was a threat and he reacted. Berry was still in hot pursuit, his boots crunching against the underbrush. David flinched at the sound of a three round burst that whizzed past him. His breath was growing ragged as branches and bushes tore at his clothing and face.

_I’m not letting this bastard take me down. I’ll get Max back for you, Chloe._

David made it out onto the road, and he stumbled into the passenger side door. He threw it open and opened the glove box. His hand wrapped around the polished wood of the handle.

And that’s when he felt the bullet enter his back.

David had been shot before, but this was beyond anything he had ever experienced. The pain was beyond excruciating. He collapsed forward onto the seat, blood pooling on the black leather. He could barely move.

He could hear Officer Berry, approach from behind.

“You just had to keep playing detective, huh?” the man said, his voice strained with pain.

He limped over towards David’s motionless body.

“You should have just left it alone, but you’ve gotten too close, now. I didn’t want to have to do this.”

David coughed, and Officer Berry slowed his approach and lifted his gun.

“You son of a bitch,” David said, struggling to speak. “You’re on Prescott’s payroll aren’t you?”

“Sometimes you have to make a deal with the devil to keep your family safe,” Berry said, more to himself that to David. “You’d have done the same thing in my situation.”

“Look into my eyes and say that you, fuck,” David said through gritted teeth. “Say that as you take away another father from my wife’s child.”

Officer Berry gulped. He walked just behind David, and raised his gun directly at the back of his head.

“I’m sorry.”

As Officer Berry’s finger wrapped around the trigger, David rolled and fired the revolver over and over until it clicked.

One of the bullets hit the Officer Berry in the arm, while a second ripped a hole in his throat. He stumbled backwards, clutching his neck as he choked on his own blood. He fell onto his back, his eyes wild as he stared at David.

David glared back until the life left the other man’s eyes.

_Stupid. Stupid._

The gun fell from his hand as David tried to pull himself up onto his feet. He found his legs were no longer working. He slid downwards onto the road, the pain making him sick.

_Have to stop . . . the bleeding._

He had a first aid kit in the trunk. If he could just reach it. . .

David clawed at the gravel with his hands, pulling himself a few inches forward. But after several attempts, he found himself unable to move any further. He lay there for a moment, in the dirt, listening to the sound of his car’s engine idle in the rain.

David found his mind wandering, no longer concerned with reaching the trunk, or with the fact that he couldn’t really feel anything anymore aside from the drops of water splashing against his face. He thought about Joyce, and Chloe, about how much of an ass he had been. There were so many things he should have done and said, had he been a better man. But he wasn’t.

He was so tired now. Tired of fighting, tired of making mistakes, tired of hurting people. If only he could turn back the clock, he’d have done it all differently. He still had so much he needed to tell them. He’d always been bad at saying what was on his mind. It seemed like only now he had found the words. For Kate Marsh, for Chloe . . . for Joyce. If only he had given her that letter instead of throwing it away. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d find it when she cleared out his things. David smiled.

Everything seemed to get a little bit brighter, and then he closed his eyes. He was just so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this chapter took a big turn. I'm really excited, as we are finally reaching the chapters that I've been excited to write since the beginning. Next chapter is going to get NUTS, and it's not going to stop until the end.


	6. Always Take the Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 Song: 
> 
> _Jimmy, He Whispers _\- Manchester Orchestra__

The bunker air was cold and silent aside from the light sawing sound of metal through woven fiber. It was the calm after the storm. Max had been forced to relive her heated confrontation with Nathan once again. She’d rewound time to give Victoria the small scalpel that she was now using to saw her way to freedom. But Max had needed to distract Nathan, who’d gotten a little too close to figuring out there scheme. Max thought that by now she would be used to the feeling of _Déjà vu_ that came from repeating conversations. She wasn’t.

“Wow, you’d say anything just to get what you want? You’re just like Jefferson _and_ my Dad. Everyone keeps trying to control me,” he had said.

“Then don’t let them, Nathan. If . . . If you won’t let me go. Take Victoria out of here. I know you don’t give a shit if I die. But you will _never_ forgive yourself for letting her get hurt. She trusted you, Nathan.”

He had erupted after that. Like he had before. Max noticed tears building at the edge of his eyes before he turned away and strode out of the bunker. He seemed so fragile. It made him dangerous, but Max couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

_It doesn’t have to be this way, Nathan. You can help end all of this. . ._

But it looked like they were going to have to help themselves for the time being.

“Victoria. How’s it coming?” Max asked, turning to her classmate.

“It’s tough,” She said her voice wavering, “My hands are shaking like crazy.”

There was a clatter of metal on the floor, and Victoria swore, her breath speeding up.

“Shit. I dropped it. I-I don’t think I can reach it,” Victoria said as her voice cracked. 

Max raised her hand, her powers pulling back time around her in a rolling cascade of images. When the sensation stopped, she spoke to Victoria again.

“Victoria,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re doing great, just breathe.”

Victoria’s sawing slowed, she took a deep breath.

“Thanks, Max. I’m getting there,” Victoria said, her voice steady.

The sawing stopped.

“Max. What do we do once we get untied?” Victoria asked.

Max thought about it for a moment. What _were_ they going to do? Nathan and Mr. Jefferson were still close by. Would they be able to sneak past them, would they have to fight?

“Whatever we have to do,” She responded.

Another possibility presented itself to Max. She could use one of her photos from this week to go back in time and make sure that Jefferson got put away before this ever happened. Max scanned the room for her bag and the journal full of photographs that it contained. But there was no sign of her belongings anywhere, all she could see in the room was the creepy medical equipment. Speaking of which; what the hell was all of this stuff? Some of the things, like the shelving and desk in the corner looked ancient, like it’d been down here for fifty years. But the medical slab and curtains, as well as the tools and trays all looked brand new. A series of grisly possibilities entered Max’s mind but she really, really didn’t want to think about them right now.

The bunker door screeched open.

“Victoria, keep going, as quiet as you can,” Max whispered.

Max knew that pretending to be knocked out was no longer an option, but she would be able to buy some time if she kept herself together. She pushed down fear as Mr. Jefferson walked in, his neat black shoes echoing on the concrete.

“Nathan told me you were awake. You really did a number on him, Max,” He said with a smile.

Max glared at him.

“Oh, acting tough I see,” he said, stepping up to Max’s chair. “It doesn’t suit you. Your hands are shaking.”

Max balled her hands into fists and looked away.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m surprised at you, Max. You were never like this in class.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It _means_ that maybe I misjudged you. Maybe you’re just like all the other brain dead teenagers these days. Like that one,” He gestured to Victoria in contempt. “You all make it into one of the most prestigious photography programs in the country, and I can hardly keep you all interested. You’re more concerned with your cell phones, or in your case, spacing out and taking selfies.”

“Well I’m glad to disappoint you.”

Mr. Jefferson frowned, and pulled his camera off of one of the shelves. He got down on one knee and snapped a picture of Max.

“What the hell are you doing?” Max demanded.

“That’s the thing about photography Max. You can’t have any hesitation,” he said as he snapped another few pictures, “You always take the shot,”

He stood up, turning the camera to face Max.

“Look at these, Max. Look at the emotion; defiant yet vulnerable. You can’t get a model to take shots like these. It’s real. It’s art,” He said to Max, as if giving a passionate lecture.

“It’s sick,” Max said, trying not to gag at his close proximity to her.

Mr. Jefferson sighed and stepped away from her.

“Max, you had so much potential.”

The use of the past tense did not help to steady her nerves. The metal chair at her back seemed to grow colder.

“W-What are you going to do to me?”

“Hm? Oh, Max. We can’t exactly let you go with everything you’ve seen, unfortunate as that may be,” Mr. Jefferson said, the remorse in his voice only making what he was saying even more upsetting to Max. “It will be painless, I promise.” 

_Oh my god. Oh my god._

Her eyes began to sting with the threat of tears, her lip trembled as she fought down the ugly primal fear that was beginning to coil within her. She needed to turn it into something else.

“If you’re just going to kill me, why . . . why am I still even here.”

“Because you might be exactly what we are looking for.”

It was the way he said, it. Pretentious; like she was an object of intellectual discussion, and not a person sitting right in front of him. It infuriated her.

“Another binder for your collection? I’m glad they all burned,” Max said, her temper rising.

Mr. Jefferson scowled and set his camera down on the shelf again.

“The Dark Room was a terrible loss, but Nathan did manage to save that hard drive,” Mr. Jefferson said, before smiling at Max. “So it’s not all bad.”

_Yeah, keep smiling you bastard. That hard drive is what’s going to put you away forever._

“I’m going to make sure they bury you,” Max said through gritted teeth.

Mr. Jefferson laughed. It lit a fire in Max’s stomach, she pulled at the restraints despite the pain. This smug son of a bitch, she’d idolized him as little as a day ago. Everything she knew about him was a lie, a big disgusting lie.

“What could you possibly get out of any of this?” Max said, her voice rising with emotion. “You’re one of the most famous photographers in the world. You have everything you could have ever wanted. I-I looked up to you.”

Mr. Jefferson sighed.

“Max, I don’t really expect you to understand this. But I am on the cusp of something unprecedented. Something any photographer would kill to be a part of. I’m going to capture things on film you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, his words filled with an almost religious awe.

He was no longer looking at her, instead he was moving towards the flickering florescent lamp at the edge of the room, drawn to the light like a moth.

Max heard a soft _snap_ to her left. She glanced over to see that Victoria had freed her hands.

_Nice, Victoria!_

Victoria sat up, and began removing the restraints from her legs, her eyes were fixed on the back of Mr. Jefferson’s head. Max kept herself at the ready.

“Max, it will make all of my previous works look like the fumbling of an amateur. If you’d seen the things that I have, you’d understand why I would risk all of this,” Mr. Jefferson said.

Max didn’t respond as Victoria stood up and began working at removing the restraint binding her to the chair.

“But then again . . . maybe you do,” Mr. Jefferson said as he turned around to look at Max once again.

He balked when he saw Victoria at Max’s side. Her hands froze over the restraints.

“What the hell—,” he began as he rushed forward to grab Victoria.

“Don’t touch me you psycho!” she shouted as she stabbed Mr. Jefferson.

He yelled in pain and backed away, looking at the metal tool that was now embedded halfway through his shoulder.

“You little bitch!” He snarled as he pulled the object out of his body, his white shirt turning crimson with his blood.

He rushed forwards towards Victoria, grabbing her by the arm and slamming her down onto the ground, hard. She moaned in pain.

Max reached out her hand and pulled time backwards, her head pounding with the sensation.

This time when Mr. Jefferson grabbed at Victoria, Max kicked her one free foot out, catching him in the leg. He fell hard onto the floor as Victoria scrambled towards the other fallen surgical tools that had been scattered by Nathan’s meltdown. She grabbed another scalpel just as Mr. Jefferson landed on her and attempted to wrestle the weapon from her hands. Victoria screamed.

Just as Max contemplated using another rewind, the door to the bunker opened. Nathan rounded the corner, and for a moment, the fighting slowed.

“What the fuck!” Nathan shouted as he ran forward to pry Mr. Jefferson off of Victoria, “Get off of her.”

“Nathan, stop, damn it,” Mr. Jefferson said as he tried to fight the two of them at once.

“Don’t let him hurt her, Nathan!” Max cried out.

“Shut the fuck up, Max,” Mr. Jefferson said.

“Nathan, help me, please,” Victoria pleaded.

Nathan refused to relent, and Mr. Jefferson finally took himself off of Victoria and stood up. She rolled over and crawled back towards Max her chest heaving. Nathan shoved Mr. Jefferson.

“What the hell is this?”

Mr. Jefferson looked down at Nathan, a deep scowl ruining his handsome features. He’d lost his glasses in the tussle, leaving nothing to hide his cold eyes.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” he said.

The words seemed to hit him like a truck. Nathan backed away.

“You can’t talk to me like that. My dad—,”

“Your father isn’t here right now, Nathan. And as far as I’m concerned, he would tell you the same thing.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt her. . .”

“Cut the bullshit Nathan. Don’t act like you aren’t in this with me already. You knew what was going to happen.”

Nathan grabbed at his forehead, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

Mr. Jefferson walked over and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head up so that he could look at Max and Victoria.

“Take a good long look, Nathan. Because you’ve hurt them just as much as I have. You’re just as responsible for what’s happened, and what is going to happen to them. So don’t you dare say that you didn’t mean it, because it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Nathan gulped, his eyes red with tears. Victoria grasped at Max’s legs, the two of them stared at him, wide eyed, and pale. Max couldn’t even rewind, she was too stunned to do anything but watch.

Nathan sunk to the floor, whimpering.

“You know why we’re here, Nathan. You know what needs to be done and what will happen if you can’t follow through.”

Mr. Jefferson placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulders and his voice softened.

“Nathan, I know that this is hard for you,” he said as he helped Nathan to his feet. “But what we are doing, it’s going to be worth all of it. I promise. . . Now go get the syringe. Let’s let them rest again.”

Nathan looked over to the sedative filled syringe on the counter. He walked over to it like he was sleep walking, his head hung low, his gaze averted from Victoria and Max.

“Nathan . . .,” Victoria whispered, her voice weak.

Nathan picked up the syringe and walked over to Mr. Jefferson. The teacher held out his hand, a reassuring smile nestled in his goatee. Nathan hesitated.

“You don’t have to do this, Nathan. You have a choice,” Max said, her voice gentle despite her fear.

Nathan looked at her, and for the first time, Max could see the true face of Nathan, one that was hurt and afraid and weighed down by a terrible darkness.

He dropped the syringe in Mr. Jefferson’s hand. The photography teacher smiled and walked over towards Victoria. Nathan looked away and covered his ears as he began muttering to himself.

“Don’t struggle Victoria. It’ll all be over soon.”

_I have to rewind. I have to rewind. . ._

But what could she do? Her mind raced as she tried to think of something, anything that she could have changed in order to stop this. She could think of nothing. But then, something inside her called out to Max. It felt . . . familiar.  She had a notion that she wasn’t supposed to do anything at all.

_Thunk._

Mr. Jefferson froze mid-step. He turned to look back at the corner where the door was. Nathan looked up too.

_Thunk . . . SCREETCH_

The bunker door opened, hidden on the other side of the corner. Mr. Jefferson began walking towards it, caution in his steps. He seemed unsure of if he knew who would be on the other side.

Max’s heart nearly exploded when she saw Chloe round the corner, a tire iron clutched in her hand.

Their gazes met from across the distance, and in a brief instant, a fury of emotions passed between them. Shock, relief, longing, joy, all in one passionately conflicting moment. Then Chloe looked at Jefferson, who leapt sideways through the plastic curtains, towards the old wooden desk in the corner. She lunged forward, weapon at the ready. Max could hear him rummage through one of the drawers, his body distorted behind the opaque material.

Max heard the sound of a gun clicking ready.  Then there was the sound of metal cracking against a skull, then a heavy thud, as Mark Jefferson collapsed onto the floor.

Warren and Kate rounded the corner next as Nathan leapt forward, running towards the exit. Warren, who was holding a heavy iron chain, acted on reflex, and brought the makeshift weapon down across the other boy’s shoulder. Nathan cried out in pain and lost his balance, tumbling onto the floor. Warren, caught up in the moment, hit him over the back several more times, until his opponent was whimpering in a fetal position.

Kate gripped her flashlight like a club, and stood just behind Warren, seemingly ready to follow up if needed.

Max was stunned beyond belief. They had just been rescued. Rescued by her closest friends in an instant. She was shaken out of her slight trance by the sound of Chloe ripping past the plastic curtain, running towards her.

“Max!”

“Chloe!”

Chloe tore at the restraints on Max’s arms and leg like an animal. She was laughing and crying in equal measure, her fingers fumbling at the material as Kate ran up to join her.

“Max, I was so fucking afraid. I-I . . . I can’t believe it, you’re here. You’re alive,” she said as the restraints came off and Max flung herself into Chloe’s arms.

“Chloe. You found me,” Max said, the words buried in Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe planted a kiss onto Max’s forehead, and ran her fingers across her friend’s hair. Max trembled as she griped tighter at Chloe’s back.

They held each other in that intense embrace, like they were afraid the other would disappear if they let go. Max’s heart was roaring in her chest as she felt a warmth spread through her whole body. She felt safe again, despite everything. There were so many things that they needed to say, but for now, the words could wait.

Victoria rose to her feet, using the chair to balance herself. She almost collapsed when Kate reached out a hand to help. Warren remained standing over Nathan, making sure that he didn’t move.

“Victoria, are you ok?” Kate asked. There was uncertainty in her voice.

“I-I . . . I’m fine now,” Victoria stuttered, blindsided by the appearance of Kate Marsh. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for Max, I had no idea you’d been taken too. God, this is awful,” Kate said, her voice trembling.

“I, uh . . . I’m glad that . . .,” Victoria stuttered.

She was unable to look at Kate, who seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Victoria’s movements were awkward and rigid as she tried to say something more. Then, without warning Victoria flung her arms around Kate, who to her credit, returned the hug.

“Hey. I uh, could use some help here,” Warren said as he looked back and forth between them and the prone Nathan Prescott.

Chloe took another look at Max, her eyes swimming with emotion. Then she let go of her, hands grazing across her arm as they parted. She turned to face Nathan, and her face hardened. She grabbed a roll of duct tape from the counter and began binding his arms and legs. He tried to speak, but Chloe placed a strip of tape across his mouth to shut him up. After a moment, he lay still. Chloe moved onto Mr. Jefferson next.

Max rose from her chair, her legs faltering a bit from lack of use. Warren approached her and seemed to be moving towards a hug, but then stopped himself. Max was surprised by this. She opened her arms up to receive a hug. Warren smiled, and obliged.

“Max, we were so worried!” Warren said, before backing away from the hug. “A-Are you ok?”

“I am now.”

Warren looked away from Max, and back at the restrained Nathan. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but then Chloe called them over. The four of them joined her, standing over the semi-conscious Mr. Jefferson, whose head lulled from side to side, a large bruise beginning to form across his cheek where Chloe had struck him. Mr. Jefferson’s gun sat on the edge of the desk, next to the hard drive and red binder, where Chloe had tossed it.

“Max, what the fuck is your photography teacher doing here?” Chloe asked, confusion and rage displayed on her face in equal measure.

“H-He was working with Nathan. Controlling him. He drugged me and Victoria at the Vortex Club party.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chloe said, leaning against the desk.

Victoria merely glared at him. Warren looked too shocked to say much of anything.

“M-Mr. Jefferson?” Kate whispered, tears beginning to form in her eyes as her hand rose up to cover her mouth. She stepped away from everyone to the other side of the desk.

“You sick fuck,” Chloe said, her voice cracking. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to a sitting position against the wall. Mr. Jefferson coughed and opened up his eyes, blood dripping from his nose and split lip.

“You killed Rachel! You almost took Max away from me!” Chloe said as she slammed his back into the wall. Max walked up to stop her, despite the satisfaction it gave her to see it.

“Chloe, don’t. He’s going to get what he deserves soon enough.”

“Always the cautious one eh, Max?” Mr. Jefferson coughed out.

Max spit in his face. Warren stepped forward his fists shaking.

Chloe pulled out her phone and dialed David’s number. She frowned when it kept ringing. She tried again.

“Max, I can’t get ahold of my stupid step-shit. He was supposed to be here before us,” Chloe said, sounding more frustrated than worried.

Mr. Jefferson let out a weak chuckle.

“Madsen? I don’t that fascist fuck is going to be making it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Chloe asked, glaring down at him.

“It means he’s probably already dead and buried,” he slurred, his jaw was slacked but his eyes were focused and they were pointed right at Chloe.

“You’re lying,” Chloe said, looking at Max.

But instead of answering he smirked.

Chloe grabbed him by the collar. Mr. Jefferson didn’t waiver.

“He trusted the wrong cop. They won’t find his body.”

“You son of a bitch!” Chloe pushed herself off of him.

Max grabbed Chloe’s arm, and pulled her close. Mr. Jefferson scowled at them.

“You’re all going to pay for this. You don’t know who is. . .”

Mr. Jefferson’s voice trailed off and his gaze fell to somewhere behind them. There was a soft _click_. Everyone turned to look at the source of the sound.

Kate Marsh was pointing a gun at Mr. Jefferson, her hands shaking.

“Kate, what are you doing?” Max asked in disbelief.

Kate’s eyes were wide, her cheeks stained with tears.

“H-He hurt me Max. He almost destroyed my life,” she said. Her voice had a strange, desperate quality to it, like she was piecing everything together faster than she had time to fully process it.

Max could see the red binder on the table next to her had been opened, revealing one of the disturbing black and white shots of Kate.

_Oh god, Kate, you shouldn’t have had to see that.  I can fix this._

But when Max lifted her hand to rewind, her head felt like it was being crushed under a rock. She almost cried out as a stream of blood poured from her nose.

_Again? How could this be happening again . . .?_

Max began to feel something deep within her . . . something strange. A wave of nausea passed over her and the hairs on her arms began to stand on end.

“Woah, Kate. Let’s take it easy, ok.” Warren said, as he stepped closer to Kate.

Kate jerked to face Warren, seemingly unaware that she was now pointing the gun at him.

“No! H-He can’t get away with this.”

Warren backed away, and Kate brought the gun back to face Mr. Jefferson, who seemed amused more than anything. Victoria looked back and forth between Kate and Max, her mouth agape.

“Kate, don’t do this. We’ve got him, he’s going to go to jail for a long time,” Max said, trying to keep herself standing. Chloe steadied her, and Max felt some of her strength return at the touch.

“W-We don’t know that. He said they had a cop with them! Y-You didn’t want me to go to the police before . . . how will this be any different?”

“He could be lying to us Kate, we can’t trust _anything_ he says, and even if it’s true, we have so much evidence against him that they couldn’t possibly cover it up.”

“Max, I want to believe you . . .,” she said, and then her voice turned cold. Something almost unrecognizable as Kate. “I worked in his classroom for weeks . . . I _trusted_ him.”

“We all did Kate. But this isn’t the way to fix it. You won’t be able to undo this,” Max said, pleading not for the life of Jefferson, but for the regret that she knew would haunt her friend forever for taking a life.

Her headache was growing worse and worse, her vision beginning to blur at the edges. But she couldn’t give in now. Maybe if she tried again. . .

“Th-This isn’t you.”

Max was surprised to hear Victoria’s voice. Kate seemed just as astonished and her gun lowered slightly, but it was still pointed at Mr. Jefferson.

“I know that I don’t have any right to say that . . . but you’re not this,” Victoria’s voice was soft, her gaze locked on Kate, she held out her hand. “Hasn’t he taken enough from us?”

Kate looked at Victoria, her resolve beginning to falter.

“This is would make an amazing shot,” Mr. Jefferson said. “This . . . this corruption.”

Kate looked away from Victoria and the others. Her gaze locked with Mr. Jefferson’s.

“I want to know. Why? Why did you do this to me? To all of these girls?” Kate said, pleading.

Mr. Jefferson smiled and shook his head.

“It was never about any of you. But never mind that Kate, you’ve given me something very special to witness. The death of _real_ faith. If only I had my camera.”   

“You’re a wicked, man,” Kate said as she leaned forward. Her hands stopped shaking as she lifted the gun.

Max’s head felt like it was going to explode.

“Kate, no!” Max cried.

And then everything stopped. Kate and the others, Mr. Jefferson, all of them were completely motionless. The chaotic moment was frozen in time, like a photograph. To be pulled away from the immediate tension of the situation was jarring, like being shook awake from a nightmare.

The space around her flickered in and out of focus, and that wave of unease that Max had experienced earlier now felt like a tsunami. She pulled herself out of Chloe’s frozen grip, her body feeling like it was moving through water. The silence was so sudden and unnatural, that Max’s breathing began to unnerve her. But it was one terrible thought that shook her the most.

_I didn’t do this._

“Hello, Maxine,” said an enthused voice from behind her.

The sudden sound caused Max to jump and she turned to see a middle aged man in a pressed brown suit standing at the bunker door. Her chest tightened and she felt like she was going to pass out. This didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t be possible.

The man smiled at her, revealing large bright white teeth.

“My name is Sean Prescott, and we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Nathan's Dad! Surprise! 
> 
> So this was one of the big changes that I had planned from the story since the beginning, and I was really excited to write this chapter. I'm finally at the point in the story where a lot of my big ideas were focused on and in the coming chapters I will be writing some of the scenes that i had originally envisioned for this story, which makes me very excited! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you're all ready for the events that are about to be set in motion. So buckle up.


	7. Hole to Another Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies everyone for taking longer with this chapter than I normally would. Some life stuff came up that I had to deal with. Hopefully there won't be any delays worse than this one in the future. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Chapter 7 Song:
> 
> _Heart Of Hearts _\- pg.lost__

“My name is Sean Prescott, and we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Sean Prescott was tall, his silhouette angular with the cut of his brown pinstriped suit as he stood in arch of the open bunker door. He had a wide forehead, framed by a receding hairline of graying brown hair that was cut short and professional. He looked older than he did in the picture Max had seen in Nathan’s room, the hints of wrinkles pulling at the edges of his dark eye sockets and thin lips.  He carried himself like a man who expected a lot and was used to getting it. A gleaming white car-salesman’s smile split his round face, but despite its appearance of warmth, it was juxtaposed by an intense coldness in his eyes. They were like two dark storm clouds sealed in glass.

Max was still reeling from his sudden appearance. The room around them was frozen in time, exactly how it had been when Kate Marsh was on the rooftop. But the man standing in front of her seemed to be unaffected by the stop of time. Just like her.

_Nathan’s dad? He’s. . . He’s. . ._

“You seem surprised, Maxine. Am I not what you expected?” He asked.

“Max, never Maxine,” she whispered.

She said it on reflex, her mind still in shock as she tried to recover from the pain of her headache.

Prescott hummed in response.

“To be honest, I’m just as surprised to see you here. To think, my two major headaches this week were actually one. Fate is funny that way, don’t you think?”

“H-How are you doing this?” Max asked, as she took in the unnatural scene around her.

“The same way you can, I suppose. You didn’t really think you were the only one, did you?”

He made a disappointed tsk sound as he began walking closer to Max. She lifted her hand on instinct, but found she was still unable to rewind. She could actually _feel_ the resistance of time around her, as if something were holding it in place, preventing her from pulling it back.

“Careful, Maxine,” he warned with a tone of mock concern. “You might break something important again. Time can be oh so fragile . . . as you’ve seen.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Max said as Sean Prescott continued to move towards her.

“Don’t be like that,” he said with a flash of another smile, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to talk with you! I mean, it’s not every day I get the chance to speak with someone who’s gone back in time.”

Max was still on edge, but she had to admit that she was perhaps more curious than she was afraid.  She kept her body tense, but allowed him to approach. He stopped a short distance in front of her and then began to marvel at their surroundings, his body sharp and solid in contrast to the flickering reality around them.

“Incredible isn’t it?” he whispered in awe. “I still haven’t quite gotten used to it.”

He walked up to the desk, looking at each of the statue-like figures arranged before him. He let out a chuckle.

“My, my, Mark. What a mess you’ve created for yourself,” he said, before gesturing to Kate. “You know. I think this girl was going to shoot poor Mr. Jefferson.”  

Sean Prescott chuckled, which then turned into a wet cough. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth.

Max felt something shift in her stomach.

“That’s not funny.”

“Lighten up, Max! I’d have thought you’d be happy to see him go, because . . . well,” He gestured to the bunker around him.

“You knew about all of this. You let him take all of these girls!”

“Well of course I did, it’s part of why I got him his job at Blackwell Academy. That and the fabulous press he brought to the school. I mean, it brought _you_ here.”

“Y-You brought him here for this?” Max said as she backed away. She brushed against one of the plastic curtains, the material causing her to shiver.

“It’s not what you think I assure you, Max. I get no perverse thrill from seeing these photos.  Mark always had a _unique_ way of seeing the world, but I’ve always known him to be discrete and reliable.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a piece of paper, he offered it to Max.

Max stood rooted to the spot, but after a moment of hesitation she walked forward and took the paper from him, noting a slight tremor in the man’s hand as he handed it over. It was a photograph, she realized. A photograph of Rachel Amber in the Dark Room. Max clenched her jaw, as anger, grief, and crushing guilt all came flooding back as she looked at the bound form of Rachel.

“What do you see, Maxine?”

“Fuck you.” Max said, almost crushing the photograph in her hands as she looked away.

“You’re letting your feelings cloud your vision. Look again. _Closely_ this time.”

Max raised the photo again, struggling to look upon the image of the girl that she couldn’t save. She looked into Rachel’s vengeful eyes, and felt them judge her with a weight that she could not bear. But just as Max was going to look away again, she saw something. A flicker. A shadow. A ripple of light.

_W-Woah, did I really just see that?_

She focused more on the photograph, and then the image began to shift and twitch as a soft voice began to whisper in her head. She’d never heard Rachel Amber speak, but somehow, Max knew it was her voice. It was like when she jumped though photographs, but not entirely the same. Instead of feeling the rush of déjà vu that accompanied a photograph of herself, this was a feeling similar to recognizing a stranger in a crowd. It was, like she was looking at the face of a lost loved one she had once forgotten.

“Rachel . . . Rachel was. . .” Max stuttered.

 “Amazing what the right eyes can see in an image. You of all people should appreciate that,” Prescott said smiling.

A storm of thoughts raged in Max’s mind. Rachel, a time traveler. Just like her. Chloe couldn’t have known, she would have told her if she had. But how could this be? If Rachel was time traveler, how could she be _dead_? Max looked around at the bunker, the chair, the slab, the silver trays and tools and curtains of plastic. A tiny voice in the back of Max’s head screamed at her to run away. But she stayed.

“Y-You’re after people with time powers.”

Prescott smiled.

“Kate . . . Victoria, they’re . . .?”

“No. But don’t worry your head with those silly details, Maxine. I’m much more interested in discussing something else.”

Max shook her head, dropping the photo of Rachel onto the floor.

“No. Fuck that. Why would you even go through the trouble of telling me all of this? You killed Rachel. You’re probably just going to kill me next.” 

Sean Prescott sighed, like a parent disappointed with a child. He stepped over to look at the frozen Kate Marsh, her gun still trained on Mr. Jefferson, her pale delicate finger hovering over the dark metal of the trigger.

“Despite what you may believe, I’m not an evil man. What happened to Rachel Amber was lamentable to be sure, but necessary for a greater good.”

_Greater good? Bastard._

Max was shaking, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She’d never punched anyone before, but she was thinking about starting.

“Maxine, you’re a smart kid, you’ve seen what’s been happening outside; strange weather, dying animals, things in the sky that shouldn’t be.”

He was looking at Max with his hands folded, a mask of pity on his face.

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence that all of this is happening now?” he said.

“You’re saying that I’m responsible?” Max said in disbelief.

“It’s what happens when you meddle with something you don’t understand. And boy have you been a busy little meddler haven’t you?” he said with an amused chuckle before growing serious.  “There’s a storm coming Max.”

He smiled again, but this one was devoid of all warmth. It was cruel and mean.

Max felt the slap of wind and the sting of rain against her face. She blinked, and suddenly the bunker was no longer there.

_Another vision? The storm, it . . . it feels different._

She wasn’t at the lighthouse anymore, instead she was standing on the steps of Blackwell Academy. She could hardly hear anything over the roar of the storm; the sound of trees uprooting, wind breaking glass, the crack of lightning and the sky coming undone. But then from the chaos, she heard a voice.

“You can see it now, can’t you? Remarkable . . .” said Sean Prescott. “This was how I knew where to look.”

He stood beside her, his hands at his sides, watching the unfolding scene as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

Max watched as a blue jay fought against the wind of the storm, it’s wings flapping in vain against the gale. Max watched in horror as the bird lost the battle with the gust and its tiny body was smashed against the ground. It lay motionless.

“How are you doing this?” Max said, trying to shield her face from the rain.

“To be honest? I’m not quite sure,” Prescott said, bringing up a trembling hand to cover a string of coughs. “I never did find out if Rachel could have these visions. I had just assumed it was a trait exclusive to my family.”

From the darkness surrounding the school, a lone doe took a tentative step in front of the school. It pointed its nose to the earth. Max watched as the doe searched the ground, oblivious to the storm raging around it. Once it reached the dead bird, its head shot up, its black eyes stared right at Max. She gulped. Then the doe’s ears folded back, and it turned towards the storm.

“This storm. It’s really coming . . .”  

“These visions do not lie, but they rarely contain the whole truth. I knew that Blackwell was the key to this catastrophe, but I did not know which of its occupants were the cause of it.” Sean said, his gaze falling on Max.

“I can still fix this.”

“Don’t be naive, Maxine. You’ve caused enough damage already. This is the result of your reckless changing of history!” he shouted, sweeping his arms across the breadth of the storm, which stood over them like an angry god.

“But I put it back . . .”

_I let William die._

There was a crash, as the storm began to engulf the Bigfoot football field, the bleachers and goal posts ripped out of the ground like weeds.

“Really? Everything? I doubt that. It will take a lot to undo this, but it may already be too late. The scars on the fabric of time may be too great to handle the strain.”

_No . . . No, this can’t be happening. I didn’t want this!_

“I never asked for these powers. I just wanted to help . . .” Max said, backing away from the towering spire of grey.  

Sean Prescott placed a hand on Max’s shoulder, and she felt a nauseating sensation in her gut. She pulled away, shoving him away from her. He stumbled back in a fit of coughs, he brought his shaking left hand up to cover his mouth.

“Don’t touch me,” Max spat, her glare boring into Prescott.

His mask of calm slipped for a moment, and Max could see a glimpse of the ugly fury underneath.  There was a flash, and they were in the bunker again. The heavy silence of the time halted room was almost suffocating.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He smiled at her again.

“Do you have any idea where your powers come from?”

“Do you?”

Prescott didn’t take the bait, instead he walked over towards Max, who stepped away from him, until the metal slab in the middle of the room was between them. Prescott ran his left hand against one of the plastic curtains, the material pattering with the tremble of his fingers.

“Arcadia Bay is a special place. My forefathers discovered that a long time ago. The boundaries of what you and I know as reality are thinner here then they are in other places. Sometimes, when the time is right, the walls are so thin, that something slips through,” he said as he pressed his hand against the sheet.

“A butterfly?” Max whispered.

“What?” he asked, eyeing Max. Her expression became unreadable, so he continued. “There are places beyond us. Places that you couldn’t even imagine. I . . . have seen some of them . . . in dreams. There is one here, just out of view.”

His expression began to darken as he rounded the slab, Max moved away from him.

“The Prescotts have been waiting for almost a hundred years for the chance to secure our birthright. To pierce the veil.”

He was rambling. Max’s heart began to thunder in her chest.

“We’ve waited so _long,_ Maxine. My father had almost given up, choosing to focus only on _this_ world and its material wealth. I never lost the sight of what was really important. If only my idiot son could grasp what we are on the cusp of . . .”

His words became lost in a fit of coughs. The static-time space around them flickered with a momentary increase of intensity, like florescent lights in a power surge.  Max’s curiosity was starting to wane, as she became more and more aware of the danger she was in. Her gaze fell to one of the surgical tools nearby. She might need a weapon soon. But then Sean Prescott ran his hand along Kate Marsh’s arm, coming to rest on the cold steel of the gun.

“How these people must care for you, Maxine,” he said.

“Stay away from them!” Max said, striding over to him.

“I wonder . . .” He said to himself, as if contemplating.

Without warning, he pried the gun from Kate Marsh’s rigid fingers. The weapon was now pointed at the motionless girl.

“What did you change? Was it for her?” 

Max felt like she’d been doused in cold water.

“Don’t do this,” she said.

Prescott cocked his head, eyeing her.

“Hm. Perhaps your boyfriend?” he said, the gun now pointed at Warren.

“Please, stop this! What do you want from me?”

“No? What about this one?” he said, the gun turning towards Chloe.

“No!” Max cried, her hand raised.

Prescott smiled, lowering the gun.

“Her? . . . Wait. I know this girl,” he said as a smile split his face. “Chloe was it? Oh this is . . . this is too much.”

He began to laugh. Max fought back tears.

“Of course. Nathan told me about her little extortion attempt.   _And_ she is the little partner that Mark told so much about,” He said, piecing the whole thing together with a smile. “It’s poetic, isn’t it? Destiny.”

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Max said, taking a step forward, despite her terror at the sight of the gun. “Some things _shouldn’t_ be changed, Maxine.”

“Then just kill me already,” Max whispered. “Just don’t hurt her.”

“It wouldn’t do any good to kill her now. Her continued existence has already done the damage.”

Max could feel her jaw clench, her hands aching at the strain of her balled fists. Her lip trembled.

“Then why the fuck are you still toying with me? Why don’t you just go back and be done with it?”

Max saw his left hand twitch.

_Unless. . ._

“You can’t. . .” Max whispered.

He glared at her, his grey eyes burning with something that made Max want to run.  

“You can’t go back, can you?”

“I think this conversation is over,” He said, his voice cold. He pointed the gun directly at Chloe’s head. “Get on the table.”

He gestured to metal slab in the middle of the room.

Max’s gaze never wavered.

“You remind me so much of her; Rachel Amber,” he spat, as if her name were a curse. He coughed and stepped towards Max, gun pointed at her. “She had that same look in her eyes. And then I gutted her on that slab. It was all _very_ informative.”

He was starting to shake, his breath becoming heavy. He looked like a newt stuck out in the sun.

“You stole it from her . . . and it killed her,” she said, her voice shook with disgust.

He sneered at her, his lip twisting like a viper across his face.

 “Don’t give me that look, girl. I just took back what was mine.”

“What? So the Prescott’s own time now?”

There was no longer any restraint in Prescott’s features. Rage twisted his face, his dark eyes sparking with light from the time altered bulbs of the bunker. But there was something else pinching at the expression of his face, like he was being stuck with needles.

He dropped the gun. After it left his hands, it fell slowly like it were sinking into tar, before coming to a stop in midair. He lunged towards Max. She was only just able to leap out of the way as his arms came crashing down on a plastic curtain behind her.

“Generations of waiting, almost squandered! All because of a girl, a fucking child who risks destroying everything for the sake of her own frivolous desires!” He roared, his left hand trembling as he grabbed at her again.

Max swung at him, catching him in the chest. He coughed, but grabbed Max on the arm hard. The two of them struggled, Max fighting and clawing for her life.

“Why? The visions chose _my_ family!” he screamed, his voice echoing unnaturally in the strangeness of the room. “It belongs to me!”

 Prescott was taller than her, but Max was younger and more desperate. She tore at his suit’s coat sleeve, and it ripped open. She recoiled as she saw the hint of the white shirt underneath, a dark—almost black—stain running across it on the arm. The distraction cost her, and he snagged her. But Max bit down on his arm, hard, drawing a line of blood. He roared in pain and shoved Max forward. She tripped over her feet and fell downwards, her head cracking against the metal table.

There was a flash of white, and a ringing in her ears.

_No . . . No you son of a bitch._

The next thing she felt was the cool metal on the back of her neck and arms. There was a ripping sound as duct tape was hastily wrapped around her legs and torso. When Max’s vision cleared. She could see Prescott panting beside her.

  The outburst had taken a lot out of him. He looked like he’d aged ten years in a few seconds. He was wheezing, occasionally shaking with a wet cough. He’d taken his torn coat off, the black stain on his shirt seemed to have grown. Max noticed how dark his veins were at the shoulder near the base of the neck, like worms burrowing from his arm. A small drop of blood dripped down his nose and at the corner of his mouth. Max felt the energy in the room shift.

“This could have been . . . painless, Maxine. Now when I . . . cut that little head of yours open, you’re going to feel it.”

Max could see the glint of a surgical knife in his hand. She felt his hand come down onto her forehead holding her down.

Something inside Max snapped. Like a dam, a torrent burst from within her, all of the fear and pain and blinding, endless rage at fate and the universe came spilling out. She opened her mouth and let the sound of fury erupt from her lungs.

“Hold still, damn it!” Prescott tried to shout over her.

But she didn’t. She writhed and screamed and kicked and gnashed her teeth. She lifted her arm as much as the tape would allow.

_Not. Like. This._

The lights began to flicker. The strange, kaleidoscopic energy that filled the time-stopped room began to shift and buzz. Max felt the grip on her head loosen. She could see the strain on Prescott’s face, the drip of blood from his nose was now a steady stream. Max could feel a hot trail of her own burn down her lips and into her screaming mouth. The taste of copper stained her teeth.

“What . . .?” Prescott growled through the strain.

He stared down at Max, taking an involuntary step backwards as the storm in his eyes was outmatched by the one reflected in hers.

_I’m going to fucking BURY YOU!_

He reached his left hand up, trembling as he did so as everything began to shift and shake. The edges of the room began to split and boil red. Max’s vision began to blur and things began to tear. She heard a snap, as _something_ important gave under the strain.

 Darkness rushed in with a burst of air, and then Max was falling. They were _all_ falling. There was no sound. There was no feeling.

When Max opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is another big one in terms of departures from the original canon. This was kind of the initial idea that sparked the desire to write this story. In my first play through, I thought for sure that Sean Prescott was going to be the big mastermind behind the Dark Room. And of course, the idea of Rachel as a time traveler is just too good to pass up. Although there are still some questions that are yet to be answered in that regard. 
> 
> I'm curious to see what you all think of these liberties that I have taken. Just as I'm sure you all are curious as to what awaits our friends in the darkness. . .


	8. Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 Songs:  
>  _Risen to a Flood_ – Fewjar, Andre Moghimi (there are two versions of this song and they both work)   
> _Rabid bits of Time_ – Chad VanGaalen

Max fell through nothing, through empty void. The sickening sensation threated to overwhelm her as she drifted through the emptiness. She was so tired; too tired to be afraid of the numbness spreading through her body. It was as if she nowhere at all.

_Am I . . . dead?_

The thought didn’t frighten her as much as she thought it would have. After all that happened this week, she was exhausted. Maybe a little rest wouldn’t be so bad?  She could just drift away and finally have a little peace; no more time travel, no more visions, no more death. But then what would happen to Arcadia Bay? What would happen to Chloe?

_Chloe!_

Max’s eyes snapped open. She wasn’t falling anymore.

The first thing she saw was how wrong the sky was. It was a roiling, bubbling grey expanse with streaks of swirling yellow, red, and orange light. Hundreds of pin-pricked holes were scattered throughout like stars. At the center of the sky was an eclipsed sun staring down at her like a judging eye. Max thought it looked like burning film, and the thought almost made her laugh.

When she sat up, she was surprised to see she was staring directly at herself. Or at least, a reflection of her. All around Max were rows and rows of mirrors, spread out in a maze like some carnival attraction. She shivered.

None of this made any sense. This place was like a nightmare, but real; at least she _thought_ it was real. Max placed a hand on one of the mirrors. It didn’t feel like a dream, but it still felt wrong. But even with the strangeness, there was something familiar about this place. Max felt she knew this place in some way that she couldn’t fully articulate. It was like a half-forgotten memory.

She stared at the dozens of reflections in the hall of mirrors. The disheveled mess of her hair couldn’t hide the heavy bags under her eyes.  Her wrists were scuffed and her clothes looked ragged and were tearing in places. It was like she was weighed down by her shoulders, she slumped so much.  Max looked like hell.

_Is that really me?_

“Hard to look at yourself, isn’t it?” said a voice.

Max turned trying to locate the source of the voice, but she was alone.

“W-Who’s there?” Max asked.

There was no response. Max began to move down the hallway, struggling to navigate the sharp turns and disorienting path of the hall. The silvery finish of the mirrors reflected the half light of the eclipsed sun in strange ways; the shadows winded across her path in disturbing patterns. With every step, her reflections followed. Max couldn’t see anyone else, but she knew she was being watched.

_How am I supposed to get out of here when I don’t even know where here is? God, what is this place?_

There was a crash, and Max leapt back from the mirror she had smacked into. A sizable crack began to spread across its surface. Without thinking, she lifted her hand and drew back time. The cracks in the glass retreated into the surface.  But as Max released her hold, there was another crash from behind her.

She turned to see two of the mirrors had cracked, the boiling sky refracted in the shattered surface a dozen times. Her face was there too; reflected in so many odd angles that she felt sick looking at them. She rewound again, but as the cracks disappeared, four other mirrors began to break.

_No! This . . . this isn’t right._

Max rewound again, and just as before, the reflective surfaces fractured like they’d been punched. Max began to panic, and she wasn’t fully sure why.

The sound of breaking glass was everywhere. Max’s eyes widened, and she took off running, down the hallway of breaking mirrors. Her reflections darted in a thousand different directions as she wound her way through the maze with little sense of direction. Left. Right. Left. Left again. With each step, glass crunched beneath Max’s feet as the shattering grew deafening.

Max rounded another corner into an open, circular room lined with mirrors. A terrible silence fell, as the breaking stopped without warning.  A ring of her reflections surrounded her, all with the same look of panic and confusion on their faces. All except one.

One of the Maxes stared right at her with a look of displeasure. When Max made eye contact with her, the ring of mirrors began to crack. The Other Max stepped into the circle, and the glass collapsed in a rain of sparkling shards. The maze crashed down too, until it was just the two of them standing in a field of shining debris that reflected the chaos of the sky.

Max stared at herself, struggling to process what she was seeing.

“This isn’t possible,” Max whispered.

“Say’s the girl who can rewind time,” said the Other Max. The voice sounded just like her own, but harsher.

Max gulped. The girl standing in front of her looked exactly same as her. The main difference was the outfit, a pressed striped shirt and white pants, all crisp and pristine. Max recognized them as the clothes that she wore in the _other_ timeline.

_This must be a dream. She can’t be me . . . I’m me._

“Who are you? How the hell did I get here? This is all so . . . so fucked up!” Max said, her voice cracking.

The Other shook her head and a mirthless smile spread across her lips.

“Just call me Maxine,” she said as she folded her arms across her chest. “And how do you think you got here? You fucked around with time again.”

“I-I tried to fix things,” Max said, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Good fucking job.” Maxine said, gesturing out to the field of broken glass. She frowned. “Now you’re stuck here with me. In this hell.”

Maxine turned away from Max, her expensive shoes cracking against the shards as she walked. Max ran up to her, trying to catch her gaze, but the other ignored her.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? This place can’t be real. _You_ can’t be real.”

“That’s a loaded statement, don’t you think?” Maxine asked as she continued to walk through the glass. “I am _you._ A version of you at least; one of the many Maxes you left behind . . . I feel real, isn’t that enough?”

Max frowned as the double gained more distance on her.

“Where are you going?”

Max’s twin sighed in frustration.

“Ugh, you never stop getting in people’s business, do you?”

Max started to think that she wasn’t going to be getting any easy answers from this . . . _other_ Max.

 But then Maxine stopped. There was a door, one Max hadn’t noticed before. It’s mundane features seemed bizarre and out of place in this unnatural field.  The girl’s hand reached out and Max watched as the other pulled the door open and stepped inside, Max followed.

They passed through darkness, and Max could feel the air shift around her. When they stepped into the light again, Max was shocked to find them standing in Chloe’s room. The posters and graffiti on the walls, the clutter on the floor, and the smell of smoke and her deodorant that Max had grown so familiar with in the past few days filled her heart with an indescribable feeling. It felt like she was home again.  

“Chloe?” Max called out.

Maxine sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed, her legs folded over. She smirked, and the feelings that Max had felt vanished when she looked out the window and saw the same apocalyptic sky that had been there on the other side of the door.

“Of course you’d take us here,” Maxine said, shaking her head.

“This is fucked up,” Max said, her voice shaking.

“Oh please, don’t give me that wilting flower bullshit,” Maxine said, her lips turning up in disgust. “We both know what you’re really like.

Max’s face scrunched in frustration. She stomped up to her double, pointing a finger at the girl.

“What the hell is your problem?” Max said, struggling not to cry in anger.

Maxine let out a laugh, low and mean. She remained seated on the bed, staring up at Max unfazed.

“My problem? _You_ are my problem. I exist in this place because of your mistakes. I have to sit here and take a back seat while you go fuck up the universe,” Maxine said, her voice frustrated but even, like she’d lost the will to be too upset over it anymore.

Max looked away from her and began pacing the floor, her anger was bleeding away into anxiety. Maxine never took her gaze off her.

“I-I didn’t try and mess up anything! I only wanted to do the right thing,” Max said.

“No, you only wanted to be popular. Once you got your _amazing_ powers, your big plan was to trick everyone into thinking you give a rat’s ass.”

Max shook her head.

“No! I do care. That’s why I was trying to make friends.”

“By telling people what they want to hear? You manipulated everyone.”

Max turned to her.

“Th-That’s not true.”

Maxine laughed, and continued with a mocking voice.

“’Oh Taylor, I’m _so_ sorry about your sick mother I never would have known about without rewinding time. Brooke I love your drone! Tell me all about it so I can rewind and make you think I know what the fuck I’m talking about.’ It must be real nice to always know _just_ what to say to people.”

Max felt her mouth get dry. That wasn’t what she was doing. Was it?

“I just wanted to help—,” Max began before she was interrupted.

“Please, stop playing innocent. You’re a god damn hypocrite,” Maxine said, standing up from the bed. She jabbed her finger into Max’s chest. “You’ve left a trail of death and destruction behind you.”

“That was not my fault you son of a bitch,” Max said, looking away from herself.

Maxine tensed up, her voice trembled with anger.

“Oh, grow up! You don’t get a pass just because you ‘didn’t mean it’. You’ve hurt people, Max, and you’re going to keep hurting them until you stop trying to control everything.”

Max pushed Maxine’s hand away.

“I . . . that isn’t what I wanted to—,”

“Or maybe you just don’t give a shit what happens, just as long as your precious punk Chloe is safe.”

“Shut up!” Max said, shoving Maxine.

The other girl brushed the wrinkles from her clothes and grinned with malicious satisfaction.

“Of course that would strike a nerve, I know myself so well.”

“You’re cruel. We’re nothing alike,” Max said.

Maxine laughed again.

“I’m cruel? Just how long are you planning on stringing Chloe along?”

Max felt her shoulders tense.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, _please!_ I know you aren’t that stupid. You know how into you she is. She might as well tattoo your name on her forehead.”

Max felt her cheeks light up red. Maxine shook her head.

“It’s embarrassing how desperately she throws herself at you. She’s just so needy, so aching to be loved,” Maxine said, rolling her eyes. “It’s pathetic.”

“Shut up!” Max said, her fists at her side. Maxine ignored her, stepping right into Max’s face.

“Even after all those years you spent ignoring her, she still remembered your birthday. She gave you her dead father’s camera,” Maxine said, her voice low, almost a whisper. “How fucking _sad_.”

Tears flowed down Max’s cheek and her body shook.

A look of realization dawned on Maxine’s face. She nodded her head in understanding.

“Oh I get it . . . that’s why you like having her around. She’s just so _easy_ to control when she’s desperate for your affection.”

Max sank down onto her knees and hid her face in her hands. Maxine stood over her, refusing to relent.  

“It’s so nice to feel wanted, isn’t it?” Maxine said. Then her voice grew bitter. “Until you don’t need them anymore. First Chloe, then Kristen and Fernando in Seattle. You just throw people away once it suits you. When will you throw her away, again?”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” Max screamed, her eyes red with tears.

“Why? Too hard to hear what you _really_ think?”

_Chloe. . . that’s not what I . . . Fuck this!_

Max stood up and ran toward the door to Chloe’s room, shielding her eyes from the reminders of her best friend that surrounded her.

“Yeah! That’s right! Just run away! Run away like you always do!” Maxine shouted, her voice shaking and her face twisted with a mixture of frustration and something that almost looked like hurt.

 Max stepped through the door again, and into the darkness.

**\--------**

Of all the shit that Chloe had seen in the nineteen years of her tumultuous life, she had never seen anything quite like this. She sat on a stump, surrounded by a few trees that swayed in a breeze that she couldn’t feel. The sky seemed to burn above her, grey and red, lit by an eclipsed sun. She really, really, needed a cigarette right now.

She had wandered through this seemingly endless stretch of woods for what felt like hours. It just seemed like the right thing to do. When she had woken up with no recollection of how she’d gotten there, waiting around in the unnatural place didn’t seem like an option. The last thing she remembered was holding Max, frozen at the sight of Kate Marsh aiming a gun at Mr. Jefferson. Part of her had wanted Kate to pull the trigger.

_Chloe, you selfish bitch. Easier for the blood to be on someone else’s hands, huh?_

God, poor Kate. She’d been through so much shit. That fucking sicko had her in that Dark Room. The memory of that place would be burned into her brain for the rest of her life. Just knowing that was the last thing Rachel ever saw—that she had died scared and alone—destroyed her.

_I know you probably gave them hell._

The tears began to fall down Chloe’s face in earnest. She’d been holding it in for hours, everything had just gone to shit so fast. And now she was here, in this impossible place. Maybe she was dead, maybe this was hell. She probably deserved it. She let herself drift away into the sobs, allowing herself a moment to grieve.

Her body shuddered after a while, and she let herself sink down into the ground. Her hands gripped at the dirt, which wasn’t dirt at all, but pieces of dark, shale-like stone. It all felt so cold.

As her sobs quieted, she began to hear something in the distance. Her head perked up at the soft noise that she heard somewhere on the other side of the trees. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and blinked away the tears from her red-rimmed eyes and got to her feet. As she followed the sound, her boots crunched against the shale. On the other side of the trees, she could hear someone else crying.

“Hello?” Chloe called out. 

The crying stopped for a moment. She rounded another tree and saw the source of the noise; a young girl with long strawberry blonde hair. She wore jeans and a t-shirt and seemed to be alone in the woods. Her back was to Chloe, her face hidden in her hands as she sobbed.

“Are you ok?” Chloe asked, as she walked up to the girl with slow, cautious steps.

The girl looked up at the sound of Chloe’s voice and her head turned back a fraction, but not enough to show her face to Chloe. Without warning the girl broke out into a run, still weeping, her breaths soft gasps of sorrow.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you!” Chloe said as she chased after the girl. “I can help you!”

But the girl showed no signs of slowing and Chloe followed her deeper and deeper into the woods. There was something familiar about this place. Chloe felt like she knew these trees, like she had been here before.

When she finally reached the girl, Chloe was panting. She was surprised the girl could go this far ahead of her, sobbing no less. Maybe all the smoking was starting to catch up with her.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Chloe said after catching her breath. “I’m lost too. . .”

Chloe trailed off as the girl turned around, and she found herself face to face with her fourteen-year-old self. The girl’s eyes were red with tears and a trail of snot dribbled down her nose. When she spoke, her voice was weak.

“I just want to be left alone.”

_What the fuck!_

“Go away!” the girl cried out. “No one understands what I’m going through.”

Chloe stood under the shadows of the great trees, paralyzed as she watched.

“My dad is dead. Dead!” The girl sobbed, looking right into Chloe’s eyes.

An old agony shifted in Chloe’s heart. Seeing herself when the pain was fresh was surreal and upsetting. She backed away from the girl.

“God, this is fucked up. This is so fucked up,” she said, grabbing at the beanie on her head.

“It hurts so bad,” the young Chloe said. “Why does everything have to hurt so bad?”

Chloe felt herself growing numb as the girl turned away from her and began climbing one of the trees, her hands scaling up a makeshift ladder. It was one Chloe had climbed hundreds of times.  

She knew she recognized this place; it was her and Max’s treehouse. The sight of it made Chloe’s insides burn. She hadn’t been here since. . .

_Since Max left._

The next thing she knew she was climbing up the ladder, her hands almost too big for the little rungs of wood nailed to the bark. She pulled herself up over the side, and lay sprawled on her back. The sky swirled above her, the eclipsed sun burning like the end of a cigarette.

Her younger self was in the corner, crying. She was surrounded by scores of drawings that she and Max had made together that lay scattered like dead leaves on the moss-covered wood. A small battery powered CD player sat on an old wire spool that acted as a table. Two ratty foldout chairs, positioned on either side of the spool, sat empty.

This had been their sanctum. Their home away from home. Max and Chloe had spent entire summers up here, drawing and talking and laughing together. It had been a gift from both of their fathers, who had built this place in secret while the two of them were at school one day. Chloe and Max had lay here in the afternoons, sweating and tired from the long bike ride from their homes, planning the lives they believed they would share together. Chloe hadn’t known it at the time, but this is where she had first promised her heart to Max, a longing born of golden sunlight washing her skin and the air of the sea carrying the sound of her voice through the branches of the pines. But this place seemed darker than Chloe remembered, like a picture that hadn’t developed right.

The younger Chloe’s sobs subsided for a moment. She lifted something in her trembling hands, a small rectangular piece of plastic. It was the case to a mix CD that she and Max had made together. The sight of the simple pen drawings of the two of them dressed as pirates smothered Chloe with a painful nostalgia.

 “She lied to me. She told me she’d never leave me. She lied right to my face,” The younger Chloe said, her voice shaking.

_This is . . .I’ve lived this before._

There was a crack like thunder as the girl snapped the disk case in two. The paper on the floor began to shift, caught up in a sudden breeze.

“S-She came back,” Chloe whispered.

Her younger self stood up, looking around the treehouse as if she’d only just realized it were here. She began to tear at the drawings that littered the floor with rabid fury. The wind began to pick up, and the sky darkened.

“Liar! Liar! Liar!” the young girl screamed as she ripped the posters off the wall.

“Max cares about us. She always has,” Chloe said, but with something like uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“How could you leave?” The girl cried.

The young Chloe flipped over the table, the CD player shattering on the floor. She sounded like a wild animal, her breaths sharp and feral. Chloe took a step back, her eyes wide and filling with tears as the wind clawed at her hair. The image of herself that stood before her shuddered, surveying the destruction around her. Something seemed to catch her eye, and she walked over to it.

A small flip phone coated in stickers lay on the floor, having slipped out of her pocket during her outburst. The younger girl looked at it as if it were a poisonous spider. She slammed her foot down on the device, smashing the screen with a crack, as thunder pealed in the distance. Chloe didn’t need see the screen to know what was on it. How could she ever forget it?

The teen sank down to her knees, amongst the ruins of a monument to their friendship, as its tattered remains were pulled away by the roaring wind. Chloe’s back pressed against the wall of the treehouse, a hollow space beginning to grow within her. The younger Chloe looked right through her, like she was a ghost. Old wounds, that Chloe had almost put behind her began to tear once again. The old familiar sting—the one her hardened heart had tried shield her from, that having _her_ back had started to heal—gnawed at her resolve. She grit her teeth.

_I’m over this shit. Enough!_

Something was coming. Something big. There were only a few seconds warning before there was a roar, and a freight train came speeding through the space between two of them. Chloe swore as the impossible freight train screamed past.  It clattered by without rails, tearing through the ghostly image of the treehouse, which began to fade away like mist. After a moment, there was only a grey fog that enveloped everything. Flickering images of the younger Chloe could be seen through the spaces in the carts as they passed.

When the last of the train disappeared, it left only a swathe of coiling fog that swallowed up the final rumble of the machine. Chloe was alone now, her other self nowhere to be seen. The silence that was left in the wake of the train was oppressive, and there was a heaviness to the air that hadn’t been there before. Chloe struggled to move, everything felt so overwhelming.

Then, a light appeared in the distance. She was drawn to it, and soon her feet began to move on their own accord. Her hands were restless fists, and she began to hope something or someone would appear in the mist so she had something to punch. But with each passing step, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was marching to some inevitable doom, some catastrophic fate that she could not escape. She raged at herself for not being able to turn back, her cheeks going flush and her jaw clenching. Above, the sky kept burning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a strange and terrible place Max and Chloe find themselves in. But all may not be what it seems, who knows what they (and others) may find in this place outside of time?   
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was a lot of fun to write, and there is plenty more where this came from. I won’t have as much time to write as I have had the past few months, but that doesn’t mean I have any intention to stop writing this story. Thank you so much to those of you that take the time to read this story, and I hope it continues to bring you enjoyment.


	9. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 Song:
> 
> _Drown (Acoustic)_ \- Austin Jones

Victoria Chase had officially lost her mind. Or at least that’s what she assumed when she found herself wandering down the empty halls of Blackwell academy. She had no memory of how she got here, it felt like she’d always been walking in this place. There was some subtle quality that was just _off_ about the room she now occupied _._ It was like the difference between a pair of Gucci shoes and a convincing knock off. Everything looked just like the real thing, but in a way that felt like an intentional re-creation. She didn’t like being here.

“H-Hello? Is anyone there?” Victoria called out, her voice echoing.

Silence was the only response.

 Outside the sky was on fire. The orange and red light spilled from the windows forming shadows at odd angles that made her eyes water. But no matter how hard Victoria tried, she couldn’t seem to find her way out of the building. This place was unbelievable, impossible, terrifying. Just like the rest of this week.

The past few days had been…Victoria couldn’t find the words; her whole world had been shaken. As she began to play back the events of this week in her head, she felt sick about everything. Especially herself. She rubbed at the marks on her wrist, and tried to forget the overwhelming terror of paralysis.

God, that son of a bitch, Jefferson. She trusted him, idolized him; and he would have killed her like she was nothing. She gagged at the thought of her conversation with him Wednesday night. She was so stupid, so naive. Why did she say the things she did? Why did she try so hard to throw herself at Jefferson? She was so damn insecure; it was like she couldn’t bother to stand on her own merits without doing some underhanded bullshit. Anything to break into the art world and get famous.  

_You’re pathetic Victoria._

As her shoes echoed against the polished linoleum floors, she found herself next to Max Caulfield’s locker, just across the hall from her own. Victoria stared at it for a long time, her hands balling into fists as she looked at the metal door. She would have died in that bunker if it hadn’t been for Max. She’d been so strong, so brave; she knew exactly what to do to get them out, while Victoria had been scared shitless.  

Victoria had been so wrong about her; she’d dismissed Max before she even knew her. To be honest, Victoria had treated her like _shit._ But Max never stooped to her level, she’d always tried to talk to her like she was a peer. She always seemed to know just what to say, like she was wise beyond her years. It intimidated the hell out of her. But that was probably just the jealousy talking. Max had offered her friendship and Victoria hoped she’d get the chance to take her up on that offer.

_Slam!_

Victoria’s body tensed at the sound of a locker shutting behind her and she turned. She gasped when she saw the halls were now full of students, the sound of shuffling feet and conversation shattering the silence that seemed so permanent a moment before. Victoria tried to get their attention, but everyone looked right past her as if she wasn’t there. It was a strange thing for her, not to be seen.

“Did you see Stella today? I think that’s like the fifth time she’s worn that outfit,” said a voice from behind her.

Victoria couldn’t believe it. She saw _herself_ , talking with Courtney and Taylor.

“I think she’s like poor or something,” Courtney said, somewhat disinterested as she looked at something on her phone.  

Victoria watched herself scrunch her face in thought. After a moment, she stood up straighter as an idea entered her head. The other Victoria walked across the hall to Stella, who Victoria now realized stood right beside her.

“Hey, Stella,” the other Victoria said with a fake smile.

“Uh, hey Victoria?” Stella said, shrinking back.

Victoria remembered this conversation. She’d heard it before, weeks ago.

_What the fuck is happening?_

“I _really_ like your outfit. Where did you get it? I’ve been looking to expand my wardrobe.”

Victoria watched as Stella struggled to hide the humiliation from her face as Taylor and Courtney snickered in the background, trying to hide their faces.

Stella turned and walked away from the two Victorias, one who stood with folded arms and a smirk, the other who looked away, trying to hide the shame on her face.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“Oh my god, Victoria! I can’t believe you said that,” Taylor said her mouth open in amused shock.

“You’re so bad,” Courtney said, shaking her head.

The other Victoria smirked and went back to rummaging through her locker. Stella was almost to the end of the hall.

“Wait!” Victoria called out.

But Stella didn’t respond, she kept walking at a brisk pace down the hall. Victoria ran after her. But with each step she took, Stella got farther and farther away. Her shoes echoed in a strange hallow tone that drowned out all other sound. Soon the voices of the other students were gone, and Stella was out of sight. Victoria was alone again.

Victoria felt a knot of shame twist in her gut. She had been in a bad mood that day. She’d just gotten a rejection letter for a portfolio she’d submitted to an art gallery in Seattle. She’d spent months putting it together, and she’d let her hopes run away with her. She felt like a loser and lashed out at Stella because she happened to be there.  Victoria was ashamed to think that it was probably the first interaction she’d ever had with the girl outside of class.

_Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit._

Victoria looked for the exit.

But then there was a loud squeal of static feedback as the school’s loudspeaker crackled on. There was a muffled tap as someone tested the mic.

“Hello Blackwell Academy! This is your queen bee the _lovely_ and talented Victoria Chase!”

Victoria’s face became a mask of confusion and fear.

“I just wanted to remember everyone that I fucking own all of you and you’ll never be better than me!” The voice said through the static with a laugh. “I’d like to take this moment to remind you all of why I’m the face of the Vortex Club. Oh, and don’t forget, go fuck your selfie!”

Victoria heard her own voice echo through the hall and she reeled at the surreal sound.  There was a brief squeal of the mic feedback and then another hiss of static.

“Sorry, we don’t let losers like you in the Vortex club.”

Her voice came from everywhere, and it echoed through the air like thunder.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Juliet fell for my texts! Hopefully it’ll knock little Ms. Perfect, Dana down a peg too.”

Victoria’s heart raced, her eyes wild with confusion. It felt like the room was spinning.

“What’s with all this shit about Rachel Amber? She was a _total_ bitch. I’m sick of seeing her face everywhere.”

_Is this… really me?_

Her voice began to overlap with itself, as dozens of terrible things she had said began to spill out like a flood washed in static. Victoria threw her hands against her ears, but she could not escape her own voice, which grew louder and louder until her ears rang with the cacophony of petty cruelty she had subjected the world to. There was just so _much_ of it. When did she become so mean?

“Oh boohoo, sorry you’re a viral slut. I’m sure she had fun!”

“No!” Victoria shouted, the words coming from her own lips.

She ran down the hallway, trying to escape her own voice. She couldn’t handle this shit right now, not here. But as she moved through rows of lockers, the walls began to stretch, and twist like rubber. The sound of her voice over the intercom began to warp too, until it became a shrill static-laced laugh.

Tears streamed down her face as the hellish light of the burning sky grew darker and darker until Blackwell melted away and Victoria was running through a dark expanse. At the edge of her vision, Victoria began to see red and orange circles eat away at the space around her. She ran until her limbs burned and her breath came ragged from her lips. But then she tripped and landed hard on a surface she couldn’t see. There was silence.

Victoria rolled around but saw nothing of the Blackwell Academy she had fled. Panic began to well in her chest as her breathing echoed in the emptiness. What the fuck was this? A nightmare? Was she dead? She couldn’t be. The last thing she remembered was…trying to talk to Kate Marsh.

 That was all so fucked up. Victoria had never seen a real gun before, and to see Kate of all people holding it, even though it was pointed at the man who’d hurt her, was horrible. She was going to shoot him, wasn’t she? Kate had already been through so much; she didn’t deserve any more pain.  

_Why do you act like you’re so concerned? You almost killed her, you stupid bitch. You tortured her after…after she…_

Max was telling the truth. Kate Marsh got drugged at the Vortex Club party, by Nathan. She’d been kidnapped and had her pictures taken by that sick fuck just like Victoria did. Every time she thought about posting that video, every time she thought about the things she had said to Kate’s face and behind her back she felt physically ill.  She was so ready to find the hypocrisy in the perfect church girl that she didn’t stop to consider that she might be wrong. Or maybe, deep down, Victoria knew what she was doing. Maybe she wanted Kate to suffer because she was a good person.

_And I’m not._

How satisfying it is to see someone down in the muck that isn’t you; to see an angel fall.

“Fuck,” Victoria whispered, her eyes filling with angry tears. “I want to take it back. Why can’t I just take it back?”

Victoria felt the ground shift beneath her. Her hands began to sink into the blackness. She swore, and ripped her hands free with some difficulty. But as soon as she pulled her fingers from the darkness, her legs began to sink. Panic overcame her as she screamed and thrashed in the now unsolid floor. Above her, the darkness that surrounded her began to boil and pop, slowly growing spots of orange and red and grey.

“What do you want from me?” Victoria shouted to the sky, her cheeks stained with tears. There was no answer.

Victoria was up to her chest in the darkness, the sky above her was a raging inferno without flame, the shapes and layers in the air shifted and twitched like leaves on the surface of a lake. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t so terrifying. She thrashed her limbs as she sank deeper and deeper, her breath ragged and shrill.

_No! No this can’t be it. I’m too young to die!_

So was Kate, damn it. The image of her on the roof wouldn’t be something that Victoria could forget. She looked so lonely up there, surrounded by a crowd of her classmates and teachers in the pouring rain. Victoria had stood there and watched, filming her like a fucking goon. She was so far up her own ass that she still couldn’t see that Kate was serious. She still thought Kate was just doing it for attention. How could she have been so stupid? Thank God for Max Caulfield. Victoria had cried for a long time after that, when she finally realized how close Kate had been to stepping off that roof.

A single dreadful thought entered Victoria’s head: This was her punishment. She _deserved_ this.

Her struggling stopped, as the viscous material almost completely enveloped her body. She closed her eyes. The end would be coming soon. But she couldn’t find it within herself to be afraid anymore. The only thing she felt now was deep, crushing regret. She wished she could have been more confident in her work. She wished she could have thanked Max for all she had done for her. But most of all she wished she could have told Kate how sorry she was, something that was more than just a stupid card.  

Victoria had agonized for hours over what to write in it. What could she have said? What do you say to someone you’ve been that cruel to? Victoria settled on something simple. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. When she took it to the hospital, she was too afraid to even go near Kate’s room. She handed the card to someone at the front desk and left.

_Coward._

The darkness reached her neck. She started to grow cold.

She was ashamed to admit it, but Victoria had hoped to put Kate out of her mind after that, as if that small act of kindness would let her forget her guilt. So selfish! Not even Max could get her to face her own bullshit. Victoria wasn’t ready to hear it at the Vortex club party. Instead she stood up on stage and used Kate’s tragedy as window-dressing for her acceptance speech.

Victoria felt the surface against the bottom of her jaw, which set her teeth on edge.

It wasn’t until Victoria had laid on that cold concrete floor of the bunker, head spinning with drugs, that she came to terms with what she had done. It never should have taken so much. Victoria even had the chance to say something to her, in that final moment of calm, when Kate and the others had rescued her.

Victoria breathed out a mirthless laugh. Kate Marsh helped save her fucking life! She’d been given a gift, and she squandered it. Victoria had said _nothing_. People like her didn’t deserve second chances. There wouldn’t be a third.

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” Victoria whispered. “I just hope you’re safe now.”

The darkness slipped over her lips, her nose, then her eyes, until she was completely submerged. Her chest burned, begging for air. She felt colder than she ever had before; every part of her body strained against the pressure of the freezing abyss.

She sank deeper and deeper, her lungs burning more and more. But then there was a moment where she felt like she’d been flipped over, though she could see nothing. Something solid pressed against her. She breathed again.

The shock of air in her lungs made her head swim. It took her a moment to adjust to her surroundings, as she coughed and writhed on the ground. She was laying on a cliff overlooking a vast plain covered in pools of dark, viscous liquid. In the distance, Victoria could see mountains with peaks like broken continents, and beyond them, a storm. Beneath the unnatural sky, the landscape looked biblical, apocalyptic even.

But it was not the mountains, or the sky, or the storm which drew Victoria’s attention. It was the figure wandering in the valley below. It was Kate Marsh. Victoria couldn’t believe it, and she stood still for a moment unsure of how to react. She had thought she was going to die, but now the sight of Kate in the distance made Victoria feel something like hope. She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Hey! Up here!” Victoria shouted as she waved her arms.

But Kate was either too far away or too distracted by where she was walking to hear her. Victoria began to scramble down the steep hill leading down to the where Kate was walking. Her limbs felt lighter than they had all day, despite the physical exertion. But when Victoria reached the bottom, something occurred to her. Was that the real Kate over there? Everything that Victoria had seen today—was still seeing—couldn’t be real. Was this another trick, another layer to the punishment she was enduring?

_She wouldn’t want to see me anyway._

Victoria stood, unsure of what to do. The plain stretched out for what seemed like forever, broken only by the mass of mountains in distance that were wreathed by the coming storm. Somewhere up ahead of her, there was a chance that Kate was here. The thought upset Victoria. If this _was_ hell, and Kate fucking Marsh was a resident, then there wasn’t much hope for anyone out there.

There was a wet squelching sound as Victoria took an unconscious step forward. She looked down at her shoe and grimaced. The expensive leather was stained black by whatever covered the ground here. It was viscous and shiny, but not overly thick. It was like spilled ink, the liquid so dark that it was impossible to tell the depth of the pools. The burning sky writhed and peeled, the motion reflected in the mirror sheen of the pools, blurring the barrier between heaven and earth. Victoria gulped, and began to run ahead.

She was no stranger to running. It was her primary form of exercise, or at least it was. She hoped she would be able to begin a normal morning with a lap around the campus again. It helped her focus on the days when she couldn’t be bothered to deal with herself. Her goal was always ahead of her, all she had to do was keep moving, keep persevering. Eyes forward, chin up. Stop for nothing, never look back. Don’t think, just do. As long as you reach your goal, nothing else matters. Who cares how many people you hurt, or how lonely it is? She could never afford to second guess herself.  Ever.

The black muck stained her shoes and lower legs, but she put it out of her mind.  Her breath was quick but measured. Her teeth clenched in her jaw without her realizing and it was starting to give her a headache. She could see Kate in the distance now, it wouldn’t be long until she reached her. The closer she got, however, the more she could see that something was wrong.

Kate was moving slow, almost limping with her arm cradled at her side. Her clothes were almost completely stained by the black liquid. The neat bun that usually restrained her hair was nowhere to be seen; the girl’s long locks clung to her back and face in a greasy mess.

Victoria stopped running.

“Kate?” Victoria asked, trying to catch her breath.

Kate stopped moving.

“Vic…toria?” Kate responded, her voice soft yet strained.

Victoria took a few cautious steps forward, reaching a hand out to the girl.

“Are you ok? I’ve been—,”

“Go away,” Kate said, low but firm.

Victoria pulled her hand back and looked away.

“I…I know you have every right to hate me but, this place is dangerous. We need to get out of here. _You_ need to get out of here,” Victoria said. The words were awkward and ill paced.

Kate started to lurch away again.

“Kate?”

“I said go away!” Kate said, turning to face Victoria.

Victoria gasped at what she saw. Kate was covered in the black liquid, it clung to her clothes and skin, and dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, staining her teeth. Black tears ran down her cheeks.  

_This…this can’t be Kate._

But Victoria could see the pain in her eyes, like the kind she had blithely ignored for days. Pain that she had exploited for her the sake of her own insecurity. Somewhere deep inside her, she could feel that this was the real Kate Marsh, and she needed help.

“Oh my god,” Victoria said.

Something grabbed at her ankles. She screamed at the sight of an inky hand rising from the ooze. Dozens of them began to rise from the ground, stretching out on long snake-like arms. They coiled around Kate in a slow dance. They caressed at her arms and cheeks, beckoning her forward.

“Kate, stop!”

Kate scowled at Victoria’s words, her eyes half lidded like she was intoxicated. The hands responded to Kate’s change in demeanor and began to push back Victoria.

“Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone,” Kate gasped.

Victoria’s eyes were wide, her hands shaking.

“Kate. Something is wrong. You’re not yourself.”

“What the hell do you know?” Kate whispered. She turned her head towards the mountains, her gaze fixed on the storm. “Just another trick.”

Kate began walking again. Victoria pushed ahead, fighting at the pull of the hands, which grabbed at her legs and arms. They were slick with the oily residue, and they left streaks of black on Victoria’s clothes, but she no longer cared about that.

Victoria grabbed at Kate’s shoulder. One of the hands gripped her ankle. Hard. Victoria bit back a cry of pain.

“Kate! Look at me,” Victoria pleaded.

Kate’s gaze drifted to meet Victoria’s. Kate’s eyes were distant and unfocused. They were clouded with grief and confusion and fear, ringed with the stains of black tears.

“Kate, what happened to you?” Victoria said.

“This is my punishment,” Kate’s voice was hollow and weak.

“Punishment? Kate, you didn’t do anything. You don’t deserve any of this!”

Kate ignored her, as the hands tried to drive the two of them apart. Victoria struggled to keep her place. She smacked at the limbs, but her fists did little to the inky constructs.

“It doesn’t come off…It doesn’t come off!” Kate said without listening, dragging her hands down her already stained shirt.

The hands were strong, but the queen bee of Blackwell would not be denied.

“W-What happened this week. All this…shit. It’s not your fault. It’s not!” Victoria said, her voice becoming choked with emotion.

Victoria gripped at Kate’s shoulders.

“What I did to you was despicable. It was fucking _evil._ And I’m sorrier than you could possibly imagine. But I know it’s not enough.”

Kate’s eyes were distant. Victoria had the feeling that Kate was seeing something else entirely.

“I-I killed him,” Kate whispered.

Victoria’s grip on Kate slipped. The hands began to pull Kate down towards one of the dark pools, cold and bottomless. Their many fingers bit into her clothes. Kate’s heels dragged at the earth, her head tilting towards the sky, arms splayed out. Hands began to claw and tear at Victoria arms and legs. One tried to reach for her mouth. She bit it. Victoria raised her voice and tried to catch up.

“Jefferson? Kate, you didn’t. I know you didn’t.”

“I felt myself pull the trigger…and then I woke up here,” she said, her gaze drifting to the black abyss.

Kate’s back passed over the edge of the pool, her hair skimming the surface. Her feet disappeared into liquid. Victoria’s feet soon followed as she secured a grip onto Kate’s hand

“No. I didn’t hear a shot. I woke up here—”

“What difference does that make?” Kate cried out. “I killed him in my heart. I-I wanted him to die.”

“Even if you did…even if,” Victoria struggled to find the words. “Fuck Mark Jefferson! What he did to you—to me—means he doesn’t deserve your mercy or anybody’s. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did.”

_For what I did._

“I-I didn’t believe. I didn’t believe in anything,” Kate sobbed. The sound made Victoria’s eyes well up with tears.

“I believed in _you_ ,” Victoria said, her chest heaving. Kate’s eyes widened. “And so did Max.”

The hands pulled Kate deeper into the pool. Victoria was up to her hip in the muck, gripping onto Kate as hard as she could. They were surrounded by a mob of hands, trying to drag them into the abyss.

“Don’t let them pull you down. I know you’re stronger than they are.”

The hands pulled them both deeper. Victoria lost her footing and slipped under, the black ichor covering her completely. It felt like she’d been plunged in freezing water. Victoria thrashed, trying to keep her head above the surface. But then she felt the grip around her limbs weaken, and instead felt a pull at the back of her shirt.

She was hauled ashore by Kate.  The two of them collapsed back onto the ground. Victoria wiped as much of the ink off her face as she could, her hair slicked back with the greasy material. She knelt beside Kate, who began heaving, vomiting up large amounts of the black fluid onto the ground.

Victoria brushed the hair from Kate’s face and rubbed her back as the other girl finished purging onto the floor. She eased Kate back onto the ground after she could catch her breath and wipe the tears from her eyes.

Exhausted, they both lay there, bodies close. All signs of the hands had gone, it was just the two of them, under the dark storm clouds, which had finally drifted over them. In the distance, there was a peal of thunder, and soon there was a gentle pattering sound as rain began to fall around them. The black ichor started to stream off them, running in dark rivulets across their skin. Victoria tried to think of something to say.

Her gaze drifted to Kate whose eyes were wide with awe as she looked over towards the mountains and the massive arcs of lighting slicing across the summit. The worst of the storm was still far away from them, raging over the peaks like a battle divine. It was like nothing they’d ever seen or heard, the valley beat with drums of thunder.  Victoria turned her head back, and her vision became lost in the tumultuous sky. Kate gripped her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter. It took me a little bit to figure out how I wanted to tackle Victoria’s emotional turmoil and regret. Originally I’d intended this as two separate chapters, but I’ve since decided to go in a different direction with Kate and Victoria which required them both to meet up in this chapter. I hope the amount of point of view changes in this series hasn’t been too much of an issue, but it’s just kind of the nature of the beast with the direction that I took the story. I look forward to writing more for all of you!


	10. Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 Song:
> 
> _In the Water_ by Anadel

Max wiped away her tears as everything around her fell apart. Her legs burned with fatigue, and her skull pounded with the rush of blood through her ears. She felt like she’d been running for hours. It was so difficult to tell time here, everything moved in such a confusing fog. A thousand painful thoughts swirled in her mind, she struggled to keep her head above water.

Ever since she’d left that _other_ Max, the world around her became more and more surreal. The air writhed and split like the sea. It shifted and changed, surrounding her with disturbing and familiar images. It was like walking through a malfunctioning projector, the frames flashing and warped. It was getting harder for her to focus; her mind flowed back and forth like waves. There was a flash.

 Max was there again: Jefferson’s class. That godforsaken lecture rang in her ears.

“Alfred Hitchcock called them little pieces of time.”

_Fuck you!_

A thousand birds crashed against the window panes turning the room red with their blood. She thought of Prescott’s vision, the fragile blue jay smacking against the pavement. Rachel Amber deep underground. Another flash.

She walked through the halls of her dorm. It was dark aside from the grim light of candles. A figure stood in a doorway of light.

“I’m more alone now than I ever was,” she heard the voice of Kate Marsh say.

She saw Kate jump. Max’s tried to cry out, but the words died in her throat.

She closed her eyes, and when they opened, she was walking through the hall in someone else’s body. Familiar voices ghosted past her ears, dozens of conversations she’d remembered from this week. It made Max want to throw up. Another flash.

She stepped through a doorway into a backwards world. Sound, movement, everything flowing in reverse. She was moving forward through a rewind and it was nauseating. So many familiar faces and sounds, all going the wrong way through the halls of Blackwell. She stepped forward, the only thing headed in the right direction.

_Or maybe it isn’t the world that’s backwards…_

There was another flash, and she stepped into a true nightmare. It was a world full of shadows and beams of light.  Bits and pieces of Arcadia Bay floated in the flood of darkness. She felt like she was being chased, her legs sluggish and slow. She tried to ignore the voices that came from the mouths of monsters with the familiar faces of men. Men who had pursued or threatened her on the other side. Flash.

It was raining in American Rust; junkyard first, then sanctuary, then tomb. The jagged mountains of trash were dark and sinister in the shadows of the clouds. They towered high above her, too large to be real, bits of detritus sliding down into an empty void that surrounded the island of trash. A large rusted billboard rested on its side, the big red letters read **: HERE LIES RACHEL AMBER, NEVER MADE IT OUT OF ARCADIA BAY.**

“So, we finally meet, Max,” said a mocking voice. “Chloe told me so much about you.”

Cold terror filled Max’s veins as she looked at the hole in the soft, wet earth beneath the sign. She gasped when Rachel Amber, looking sickly but alive, stood out of the grave. Her face was twisted in a grimace. Max took a step back, but cried out when her foot met the open air.

She fell onto her back, into a grave, her limbs growing stiff and paralyzed. Rachel Amber stood over her, looking down like Max was the last thing she’d want to see.  

“This is who I replaced? What a joke.”

“R-Rachel? Please I-I wanted to save you…” Max stuttered, struggling to move.

Rachel laughed, the sound brittle with anger.

“Right, says the girl who can travel back in time. Got it.”

“I…I can’t go back again like that! It ruined everything,” Max said, tripping over her words, her breath quickening.

“Or maybe you just don’t want the competition. You’d never stand a chance with Chloe if I wasn’t fucking dead,” Rachel said, kneeling down and cocking her head in morbid curiosity, like she was looking at a dying insect. “I mean, the only reason she wanted to kiss you was because you were dressed like me.”

_That’s a lie! She isn’t real. None of this is real!_

Max’s eyes began to water as she tried to sit up.

Rachel shook her head in disappointment, her bright blue feather earring fluttering with the motion.

“It should’ve been you, not me.”

She walked away, and Max was alone in the dirt, the rain pattering against her cheeks with dozens of cold, stinging pricks. She wanted to run away desperately but her paralyzed limbs refused to obey. She began to sink deeper into the earth.

_“Yeah! That’s right! Just run away! Run away like you always do!”_

The words of Maxine echoed through her head. It was all lies. All of it. Nothing in this place was real. That wasn’t her and that wasn’t Rachel. This all just had to be a bad dream. A side effect of pushing herself too hard fighting Prescott.

But the more she tried to dismiss what she had seen and heard the less convinced she was. What if there was no way out of this? She had never wanted this kind of power. She never wanted to have to make the choices that she did. But was Maxine, right? Was she just using her powers for selfish reasons? Maybe what Rachel said _was_ true.

When Max had held Chloe after they found her body, all she could think about was taking away Chloe’s pain. She had thought about traveling through another photo. She could warn Chloe somehow, or tip off the Police about Jefferson and the Prescott’s earlier, before anyone had been hurt. But something had stopped her. As she was being torn apart by Chloe’s grief, she couldn’t help but think of William, and what it had cost to save him. She thought about what Prescott had said, and about the damage she was causing to the fabric of time. But was there another, more selfish reason for her reluctance? No. Max couldn’t let her mind go down that dark path. She knew what happened when she traveled too far back. She couldn’t do that again. Ever.

She lay at the bottom of the grave, the earth almost covering her face completely, and thought about Chloe. Everything seemed to revolve around Chloe, like she was some cosmic hotspot. It was like the universe had singled her out for some unexplainable punishment. There was just so much pain around her, it was beginning to crush Max. She felt like she was fighting against fate itself to protect Chloe.

_I…I don’t know if I can fix it, Chloe._

She sank completely beneath the dirt. She couldn’t breathe. her wrists began to sting and there was another flash.

Bile rose in her throat when she sat up in the metal chair again, her wrists bound. Harsh white lights stung her eyes as the record player warbled in the background, the sound warped and uneven. She saw Chloe and Jefferson talking about her like she was worthless, laughing as Chloe posed for his photos. Each soft _click_ of the camera as loud as a gunshot. It was grotesque.

She saw Chloe kissing Warren, kissing Victoria, their bodies twisting around each other in mocking sensuality. They were laughing at her, and the idea of Max and Chloe together. Shame and jealousy warred in Max’s chest, making her face hot. Their words took her off guard and the strength of the feelings that bloomed at their words surprised her. It was sharp and painful, like pins all over her body.

_It’s not real. It’s just a trick. A bad dream._

Warren and Victoria melted away, leaving Chloe alone with her. She turned and looked Max in the eyes for the first time. Max fought harder against the restraints. She wanted to believe that there was something in the eyes of the figure standing before her that would prove to Max that this was not the real Chloe. But she couldn’t find it.

 Chloe glared down at her camera in her hand. Max wanted so badly to hold her close to her, even though she knew it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“I wish you would have never come back to Arcadia Bay…You’re the real storm, Max.”

            Something inside Max broke. 

The camera flashed. Her vision was flooded with white. She felt the chair melt away and she sunk to the ground.

She shut her eyes tight and curled into a tight ball. She wept, her breaths breaking out in soft puffs. It was all too much. Time travel, Jefferson, The Prescotts…Chloe.

_“Some things shouldn’t be changed, Maxine”_

Max’s eyes snapped open, the grey plain open wide before her.

“What do you want from me?” She screamed at the sky, which had gone back to the swirling red and orange.

“I never asked for any of this! What’s the point of it all?” she cried.

There was no answer, as the tortured sky writhed around the eclipse. Max brought her knees closer to her chest.

_Why do I have these powers if I wasn’t meant to use them...W-Was Chloe supposed to die?_

Her sobs deepened, as she clutched at the fabric of her jeans. The world seemed to pull away from her, like she was shrinking or it was growing larger, much too large for her to do anything but lay deep in the earth and forget. She just wanted it all to stop, for a just a moment. But it didn’t.

“Finally made it back? Took you long enough,” Maxine said.

Max’s gaze shot upwards, her doppelganger standing where there was nothing just a moment before. Her arms were folded across her chest; her designer clothes were still flawless and pristine despite the excessive dust that littered the ground around them. The girl’s face was pinched in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

Max felt her heart sink.

_For reals? Back to square one? Fuck this…_

Facing Maxine again was one of the last things she wanted to do right now. It was like talking to the darkest parts of her heart, woven from a thousand threads of insecurities. Her reflection knew just what to say to inflict the maximum amount of pain and doubt in her mind. How could she fight against herself?

 Max’s hands balled into a fist. She was done running. She rose to her feet, teeth clenched together with a twitch of her jaw. Her chest still moved like crashing waves, as she struggled to contain the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Oh, so fierce. I’m shivering,” Maxine jeered.

            “Why are you like this?” Max said, breathless.  

            Maxine laughed.

            “Why are you?”

            “I’m sick and tired of your bullshit mind games. What do you want from me?”

            Maxine growled, her jaw clenching.

            “I want you to listen, damn it! I want you to stop running for once in your life and face the truth!”

            “Well, I’m standing right here, aren’t I!” Max said, arms flung upwards into the air. “Shower me with your truth.”

            Maxine shook her head, and turned away from Max. She pointed towards a door. It was white, with thin lines etched into the frame, softening the corners. Max recognized it instantly. It was her door, the one to her bedroom in Seattle.

            “What am I supposed to do here?” Max asked.

            “You’ll know it when you see it.”

            Max placed her hand on the doorknob, and held it there for a moment. She wished she could open the door and _be_ home. To lay in her own bed and hug her parents and forget about everything for a while. She sighed and stepped inside.

The room was familiar, but it wasn’t exactly the home she knew when she left for Blackwell. It was younger, looking just the way it did that first year she was away from Arcadia Bay. There were only a few half-unpacked boxes in the space, covered with dirty clothes to the point where they seemed to have been absorbed into the floor. She had only just begun to decorate it with her own style; the walls were bare, still waiting to be filled with photographs and lights and posters. It was a half-formed reflection of herself. A developing photograph, with the first shapes only just beginning to show in the frame. Max ran her hand across the wall, taking a moment to remember those first few months in her new home.

There was a sharp _buzz_ that came from the back of the room. Max turned saw a light flicker on in the corner of the desk. It was her old cellphone. Her heart began to pound in her chest.

_No..._

“What is this?” Max said.

Maxine stood beside the doorway, her gaze cast low to the floor.

“You know what this is,” she said, with a degree of sadness that Max did not expect.

The phone buzzed again. Max grit her teeth, a wave of nausea passing over her. She turned away from the phone and back to Maxine, who stood between her and the door, her face was grim, but Max couldn’t help but notice a quiver in her lip.

“I…I can’t deal with this right now,” Max said, putting as much distance between herself and the table as possible.

The words seemed to slap Maxine across the face. She snapped and leapt forward, gripping Max by the shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you! Why are you such a damn coward?”

Max pushed herself away, fuming at the insult.

“Why am I even bothering with you? You’re just some nightmare like everything else here. Y-You’re not even real.”

            Maxine’s rage faltered, replaced with a look of hurt.

 “Not real? Fuck you! What does that even mean? I feel _everything_ that you do. I’ve watched you destroy everything you’ve touched, and it’s killed me just as much as it has you. I have so many memories. So many things I remember from a life that never happened.”

Max stood silent, stunned at the outburst. Maxine was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You keep hurting people, but never take any of the responsibility.”

“My powers are…” Max began, but Maxine interrupted.

“I’m not talking about the damn superpowers!”

The words were like a gunshot; the silence afterwards was crushing.

“W-What?”

“Pick up the damn phone,” Maxine said, her voice cold again. But Max could see her hands were shaking.

Max tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She searched for an excuse, something that she could say or do to avoid what she knew was contained on that little screen. But she knew there was no more running from this, not anymore.

Max walked over to the desk, every step a mile. The phone was still vibrating, the small screen flashing with light in the darkness of the room. A terrible pressure seemed to be building around Max, causing the floor beneath her feet to creak and groan. She reached out a hand, picking up the device as if a touch would annihilate it. Tiny letters on the screen spelled out **[3 new messages]**

**[Chloe]**

**Sept. 3 2008**

Hey, how’s Seattle? I haven’t heard from u since the move. Things r…not good here

**Sept. 5 2008**

Max? It’s Chloe

**Oct. 18 2008**

What did I do?

Three short little texts. Three little bullets. She tried so hard to forget, but this had always been lurking in the back of her mind. Every time she thought of Chloe, she could feel this silence screaming at her. She hadn’t just lost touch with Chloe, she had made the decision to ignore her, even if it was just this one time.

 It almost made the distance from Chloe easier, she was ashamed to admit. How could she have ever reached out to her after this? As the years passed, and her life moved on, she just put it out of her mind, burying it deep within her. This was her greatest regret, her deepest shame. The pressure around her grew more intense and cracks began to fissure out from the floorboards and windows. They spread across the walls like vines.

“She should never have let us back in,” the other Max whispered.

            “She never reached out again,” Max whispered, her gaze somewhere else.

            “Why would she? The message was loud and clear. ‘Max doesn’t care’.”

            Max shook herself out of her stupor. She tried to glare, but her defiant look crumbled under the weight of her guilt. The bed behind her snapped its frame. A floorboard splintered. There was a deep, dangerous groan in the walls around them.

            “You know that isn’t true,” Max said, her voice quivering, unable to look at the room falling apart around her.  

            “Then why didn’t we say anything?” Maxine said, her voice torn between pleading and frustration. “How could we do that to her? She was our best friend, and you cut her out like she was nothing!”

            Max said nothing, her hands gripping at her hair.

            “Why couldn’t you have just talked to her?” Maxine asked.

“Because I was scared, ok?” Max blurted, her chest heaving. Maxine twitched.

 “I _should_ have done more. But I was just so afraid…of her pain. Afraid that I was going to hurt that badly too, so I ran away from it. It was a shitty, cowardly thing to do, and it _kills_ me that I wasn’t there for her. Especially now...But I was twelve years old! How was I supposed to deal with William dying?”

“Well how was Chloe supposed to do it?” Maxine said. Her voice like iron. “Because she didn’t. She was alone.”

Max said nothing. A crack split down the wall, a window burst.

“She needed us. And we weren’t there,” Maxine said, as bitter tears fell down her cheeks. “Her life went to shit, and we. weren’t. there.”

It was true. Every word that Maxine spoke. Max couldn’t even find the strength to cry, it wouldn’t be right. The room groaned, each passing second was another threat of total collapse.

“We could have made her life so much _easier_ ,” Maxine said, her eyes shimmering. She was pleading with both Max and herself. “A text. A phone call. Anything to let her know we were still there. That she wasn’t alone.”

Max’s gaze was buried in the floor, which was splintering under the pressure, but she didn’t seem to care. Maxine never stopped staring at her.  

“That’s why you fight so hard to save her now. It’s not just because you love her.”

_Love…Is that what this is?_

“You’re still trying to save that little girl you abandoned.”

Five years of guilt; the massive weight threatening to flatten her. Dust spilled onto the floor from the cracks in the ceiling, as Maxine glared at her with agonized eyes. With a crack like a tree splitting in two, the ceiling collapsed, a wall of debris came crashing down from above.

But there was no fear left in Max’s heart. She took a deep breath, and everything began to slow. The chunks of wood and glass and plaster came to a gentle stop in midair, the cloud of dust hanging in space was like a stain on the air.

Maxine blinked, mouth opening slightly as if only just now realizing the room was falling apart around her. She looked at Max.

“You’re right,” Max said. “And I might never be able to make up for what I did, but damn it I’m going to try.”

The debris began to rewind, floating back up to their proper place. The dust evaporated, the shattered windows reforming, the cracks retreating into the surface.

“I l-love, Chloe,” Max said, tripping over the feeling that she’d never put into words before. “And I’ll never be able to take back those years that we lost together because of my own stupid cowardice, or that pain of that absence. But I’m going to be there for Chloe now, and until the end.”

Max stood up straighter, the strength returning to her voice. She felt lighter, less afraid. There was a shift in the air, like a cool draft in a stuffy room. She could breathe easier than she had since she’d woken up here.

“I won’t let anything hurt her ever again. Especially me.”

Maxine’s shoulder’s slumped and she let out a breath that she’d been holding. She looked at Max with a sad smile on her face.

“Don’t make promises we can’t keep.”

Before Max could respond, Maxine began to fade away, her skin burning away like torched film. As the tiny rings of red began to spread across her body, Max could see that nothing lay beneath but empty air.  

“Why do you get to live on the other side? Why do you get to see _her_ again?” Maxine whispered. There was no malice in her words, only a sad incredulity. “I love her too damn it.”

Max walked over to the fading girl, and took her hand in her own. It felt strange, the tingling beneath her palms as Maxine’s skin burned away.

“Y-You are a part of me,” Max whispered. Maxine looked up at her, some of the fear in her eyes waning. “We’re both going to see her again.”

Maxine let out a soft laugh, and smiled. And then Max watched herself fade away.

Max slumped to the ground at the foot of her bed, exhausted. Her face fell into her hands and her palms pressed against her eyes as if she could hold back the flood of emotions swirling within her. It felt like such a relief to finally admit the things she’d bottled up for so long. But she now felt the weight of that responsibility. She was in love with her best friend, but she’d also been the cause of so much unnecessary misery in her life.

_How am I even supposed to process all of this? I’ve got to find Chloe. I’ve got to make this right…all of it._

Max was shaken from her thoughts by a tapping on the bedroom window.  She rose to her feet, and could see a small blue jay, its beak tapping against the window in a slow deliberate motion. Max lifted the pane, but the bird did not fly away. It stared up at her, it’s eyes deep and knowing. There was a warm feeling inside Max’s chest. She felt a presence, something familiar and welcoming.

“Rachel?” she whispered.

The bird took flight, traveling fast into the distance. Max climbed out of the window and back out into the plain once again. It wasn’t difficult to keep up with the bird, who fluttered back to Max if she fell too far behind. As she walked, she noticed the sky begin to brighten, and the ground begin to fade. It was as if she were walking into a cloud, as if the world around her were being erased.

 After several more steps, there was no sign of anything around her, just endless stretches of white. It was calming, this place, after all the chaos she’d endured. It was like finding a port in a storm. She felt like she could finally rest for a moment.

Max realized that she’d lost track of the bird, but she still felt its presence. Then, a voice, gentle and warm spoke to her from behind. She turned around and gasped.

“Max,” said Rachel Amber. “I’m glad I finally get to meet you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Life has been very hectic for me the past few months, but I’m still committed to finishing this story. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and it let me explore some of Max’s motivations and flaws. I look forward to the next few chapters, especially with Rachel!


	11. Father and Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 song: _shadows_ by Warpaint

Sean Prescott did not believe in coincidence. When his ancestors moved to Arcadia Bay, they were nothing. Podunk farmers from West Virginia, half-starved when they crawled their way into Oregon. By all accounts, they should have stayed that way. But that’s not what fate demanded. His great grandfather had been at the exact right spot at the exact right moment in time. He witnessed the tear in the fabric of reality and caught a glimpse of the other side.

And now he was _here_. Inside the source of his visions, the crux of his family’s power and wealth. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying, like witnessing a storm from the deck of a ship. The blistering sky, lit by dangerous energies and the light of an eclipsed sun, looked as though it could fall and smother him at any moment. There was power, but Prescott knew that to dwell here long was a deadly prospect. He needed to find that girl.

Before him stretched a wide plain of shattered earth. Jagged rocks, like broken glass lined the horizon. Many of the stones floated; frozen in time and space. To the unprepared, this place would be an impossible maze, constantly shifting and changing with a dream-like logic. But it was not the place itself that was dangerous. It was what you brought with you that made it deadly.

He winced when he tried to move his arm. He didn’t have to look to know his affliction was getting worse. He coughed, and spit a wad of black phlegm onto the cracked earth. Damn that bitch Rachel Amber, he thought. He had not anticipated how viciously she had fought him. She had done _something_ in her final moments, which had broken his transference of her abilities to himself. It had poisoned him, slow and painful. A black rot had begun to spread through his chest and arm. There was nothing his private physician could do, except mitigate the pain. He reached into his pocked searching for the orange plastic bottle of pills, but found none.

He bared his teeth, pearly white, but with darkening, black-lined gums. Months of careful planning had gone down the drain. At a time that should have been triumphant celebration had become a desperate and painful fight. He was growing weary of it all.  He sighed and sat down on a chunk of broken rock that hovered just above the ground. It was foolish for him to over exert himself here, in his weakened state. He would need to try another way.

Prescott took in a deep breath, letting his scowl melt away on the exhale. He began the mental exercises that had become almost second nature to him, the ones that allowed him greater clarity in his visions. If this was truly the source of his ability, then he should be able to navigate it as easily as he could in his visions. For a moment, nothing happened.

And then the world began to shift around him, like an image printed on stretching putty. He did not experience the sensation of motion, but he was clearly moving. Faster and faster, across a myriad of bizarre landscapes. Some of the locations he passed were familiar to him, but he dared not dwell on them.

Jefferson was not hard to find. His unique personality had a drastic effect on his surroundings. Everything was sterile and bright. There was almost nothing around him, just a seemingly endless stretch of smooth white marble. The eclipse and burning sky were visible still, but it looked as though they had been framed in the sky, captured by the pristine white boarder of the ground. Jefferson sat marveling at the scene.

“It’s incredible. It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he said. “This…this puts all my previous work to shame. There are so many possibilities.”

“You shouldn’t be celebrating yet, Mark. I still need what I came here for,” said Prescott.

“Right. Max’s gift was wasted on her. She never could follow through.”

 Prescott coughed and wiped away a string of black phlegm from his mouth. Jefferson eyed him, his face unreadable. It was like being stared at by a shark on the other side of glass. He pressed on.

“There’s something powerful here. The air is changing. I think the girl has done something foolish.”

As if to punctuate his point, there was a peal of thunder in the distance. Just at the edge of the horizon, the first hints of a storm could be seen brewing.

“We should find her before it’s too late. But first we get Nathan.

Jefferson shifted on his feet.

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about him.”

“Really, now? And what is it you’d like to say?”

“He’s growing more and more unpredictable. Whatever illness that effects his mind is getting worse.”

“And? I give him enough drugs to curb what I can, but a psychiatrist is out of the question. It’s not worth the risk of him letting something slip.”

“I was afraid he was going to turn on me today,” Jefferson said, pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose. “He seems juvenilely protective of the Chase girl, and his dedication to our endeavor seems to be waning.”

Prescott grimaced. He didn’t like where Jefferson was taking this conversation.

“He’s confused. He’s let his emotions run away with him again, we knew Victoria was a risk. It’s why we waited so long to check her,” he said.

“She saw my face, and Nathan’s. It’s also possible that Max has told her something. They were quite…organized. I didn’t expect them to fight back as hard. But if Max can do what you say she can, it’s not surprising we were overpowered,” Jefferson said, his voice laced with a hint of shame.

“You don’t need to find excuses for your failures. And as for Victoria…she’s a secondary liability at this point. Our priority is Max.”

“I don’t think you’re prepared for if he does turn,” Jefferson said. It was spoken mildly, but there was the hint of an accusation in the words.

Prescott took a step forward, pressing his face close to Jefferson’s. The other man didn’t even blink.

“And I don’t think you’re prepared for the consequences of your words.”

Jefferson was unreadable, his dark eyes stared down at Prescott from behind his glasses. After a tense moment, the teacher backed away and sighed.

“I’m sorry. The stress of today has been getting to me. This conversation doesn’t help anybody.”

Sean Prescott knew when a man was lying. Even a man as cold and calculating as Mark Jefferson. It didn’t do him any good to say anything about it now, but he knew that the photographer was quickly wearing out his welcome. Besides, Jefferson’s work in all of this was largely complete. Prescott knew that Max was the one with the abilities, so he no longer needed the other man’s help in monitoring and capturing students. Although he might be useful in the cover-up, it may be easier to dispose of him now. A sharp pain in his chest shook him from his thoughts. No, it wasn’t time just yet. He was too weak to do this alone.

“Let’s go get the boy.”

 

It did not take him long to find his son. Nathan had never been particularly stable, and it was apparent in the way this place had changed around him. It was much darker here, with an incredible pressure present in the air. It was like they had sunk somewhere deep and dark. Jefferson said nothing as he stood beside him, Prescott’s powers moving the world around them both. Shapes moved in the distance, but dissolved if he looked too hard at them. Somewhere in the darkness, he could hear a deep melodic sound, like the songs of whales.

Nathan sat huddled in a ball, his entire body tense. Even the gentlest of touches might see him snap. He was mumbling to himself, his head darting from one direction to the next.

“Get up, boy,” Prescott said.

Nathan shot up like a mousetrap, turning towards his father and mentor who now stood behind him. In the shadows, something moved.

“F-Father! What the hell is going on?”

“You know what this is, Nathan,” Prescott snapped. “You’ve seen it before.”

Nathan recoiled at the sound of his father’s voice, but did not dare take a step back. Prescott sneered. His son had always been weak. Prescott had known men like him. The ones who pumped out their chest and yelled the loudest when things went their way, but folded into nothing at the first sign of true opposition.

“This is an opportunity Nathan, unexpected as it may be.”

“Did you bring us here? We were in the bunker and that…piece of shit loser hit me over the head.”

“No. I did not,” Prescott could not hide the frustration from his voice.

“Caulfield did this?” Nathan said in disbelief.      

 Yes. And maybe if his son hadn’t had his head so far up his own ass, he would have noticed something sooner. At least Jefferson had been able to look past his own self-importance long enough to notice that girl was the one they were looking for.

“She is the key to everything,” Prescott said.

Nathan looked around, trying to both follow the shapes moving in the darkness and avoid looking at them directly. Jefferson watched the two of them in silence, his back to the shadows.

“How do we get out of here?” Nathan asked.

“By finding her, and taking what is rightfully ours.”

Nathan looked down at his feet, his jaw clenched.

“If she was the one we wanted, we didn’t need to take Victoria.”

Prescott froze. There was something he did not like in his son’s tone. He could feel Jefferson’s gaze burning a hole in his back.

“We had no choice Nathan. Maxine turned her against you. She’d gone to Jefferson to hide and became a liability,” he said, his voice glacial in its coldness.

A sound began to build on the edge of their hearing. A low rustling sound.

“If you hadn’t been such an unstable wretch, she might have avoided all of this. But she’s seen your face. She knows what you did to her. I won’t be able to protect us if she’s still alive.”

Nathan’s wide eyes welled up with tears, his gaze locked at his feet. The sound grew louder, but no more distinct. It was a cacophony of whispers of incomprehensible words.  

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy,” Prescott said, slapping his hand across his son’s face. “You think I wanted this to happen? I didn’t want her dead any more than I did Rachel Amber. But such is fate.”

Nathan whimpered, rubbing his bright red cheek. The shadows around them writhed and coiled. It was growing darker, the circle of earth that they could see around them was growing smaller. Nathan’s father placed a hand on his shoulder, trying not to wince at the pain his arm was in.

“If I get what I need from the Caulfield girl, I can make it so Victoria never needed to be involved. I can make the world however I’d like.”

Nathan shook his head.

“This is all so fucked up. She looked at me like I was a monster.”

“That’s because you are Nathan,” Prescott said, his voice gentle. “But you can’t do anything to change that. I’m the only one who can help you anymore.”

Nathan’s knees collapsed from under him, his whole body shook. The whispers were more frantic now, the things in the darkness were more violent. There was almost no light left around them as Nathan’s breath came out in ragged gasps.

“You don’t have any other choice Nathan. This is the way things are meant to be.”

“N-No. I can’t do this anymore. J-Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone.”

Prescott sighed. Jefferson had been right.

“Oh, my poor boy. You’re never alone in here.”

The things in the darkness began to inch towards them. They were vaguely humanoid in shape, but stretched and warped. They were soft, dusty things without faces, like dolls that had been scorched in a fireplace. They stalked forward, hands outstretched.

Prescott took a step back towards Jefferson, who looked down at the panicking Nathan. The prone teenager looked back between the oncoming figures and his father.

“W-Wait! Don’t leave me here, father. Don’t leave me!”

“I’ll come for you later, hopefully you’ll have learned something by then. But then again, you always were such a disappointment.”

And with that he and Jefferson disappeared into the darkness. Nathan, alone with the horrors of his mind, huddled into a ball and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, and for the shortness of it. I've been really swamped with work and job hunting so it's been a bit of a creative lull for me. But I'm still committed to finishing this work! 
> 
> I had actually debated whether or not to include this POV in the story but i realized it was necessary for later chapters to make sense. All of these separate threads will soon be weaved together soon! Kate and Victoria still have a part to play and Max has a stranger to talk to. Hopefully I won't take another month to write a chapter. Thanks for your continued readership!


	12. Runaways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 song:
> 
> _Lost Bird_ \- Syd Matters

Max was staring at a ghost. She recognized the girl instantly, her brilliant eyes, the silky locks of her auburn hair and the soft, beautiful features of her face. It was Rachel Amber. The complicated, infamous, beloved, now-dead girl. She was smiling at Max, but there was something tragic and melancholic in her expression that made Max’s heart break.

“Rachel Amber?” Max whispered. “How is this even possible?”

_How can I even ask that question anymore?_

Rachel did not respond to her question, instead Max swallowed a gasp as the other girl placed a soft hand against her cheek. The touch was warm and gentle, and Max felt her face get hot and her stomach flip.

“I…I know you,” Rachel said, searching for something in Max’s eyes.

Her voice was lower than Max expected, almost smoky. The rich warmth of her words was at odds with their confusing nature. Max began to understand why Rachel had been so alluring to be around. But there was something else in her voice that broke the spell. It was a hollowness that sapped it of its warmth, like a draft slipping through a cracked window.

“But we’ve never met before,” Max said, as she brought her hand up to move Rachel’s.

But as she attempted to grab the hand, Rachel grabbed it with her other. It was cold.

“She told me so much about you,” Rachel sighed.

 “Chloe?” Max whispered.

The name had a visible effect on Rachel. She looked away from Max, her expression unchanged as two distinct trails of tears began to flow down her cheeks. She pulled away from Max, but did not let go of her hand. She sat on the ground, and Max followed suit.

Rachel made no sign of wanting to speak again, and Max was too uncertain to break the silence. So, the two sat in quiet, hand in hand among the formless white space around them.

Being here with Rachel Amber shouldn’t have surprised her after all that had happened, but it did. She’d spent so much of this week equally desiring and dreading meeting her. This was the girl that had filled the void in Chloe’s life that her absence had created. She was so grateful that Rachel had been there for Chloe, but she couldn’t help but feel the burning sting of jealousy.  Max had spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to see her, and what she would say. But now all that seemed so childish.

Max looked at the girl, tears still streaming down her face. She just looked so lost. Things should have been different. Rachel shouldn’t have had to die.

_Is this really the way things have to be?_

Max squeezed the girl’s hand, but if Rachel felt it, she gave no sign.

Max couldn’t shake the unnatural cold feeling of Rachel’s hand. It was the opposite of the soft burning she had felt on her cheek. And there was something strange about the presence beside her. But in Max’s heart there was a feeling of absolute certainty that this _was_ the real Rachel. She looked nothing like the gaunt nightmare vision that had tormented her in the junkyard, and there was that uncanny feeling of familiarity that she had experienced looking at her photo in the bunker.

Max’s thoughts were shaken by a flash of light, and the unmistakable sensation of motion. They were sitting on a train now, the two girl’s legs dangling over the edge of a box car. Max could see no locomotive in sight in either direction. It was an endless line of cars bisecting the blank white space in two.

Rachel seemed unfazed by the change in surroundings and Max wondered if she had been responsible for it.

“I’m sorry…that you’re here,” Max said. “But I’m glad that I finally got to meet you.”

“Me too,” Rachel said. I’ve waited a long time.”

 “Chloe wanted us to meet so badly,” Max said, trying to be jovial.  

Rachel smiled, but it soon faded.

“I miss her.”

Max could feel the pressing weight of guilt fall back down onto her shoulders. Rachel had been able to rewind time just like she could, and yet they sat on opposite sides of fate. 

There was a strange flicker in the corner of Max’s eye, where Rachel was sitting. She blinked and it vanished. She doubted she’d imagined it, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“She misses you too, but I don’t think she wants to. She’s so angry.”

“I can’t even imagine how much she’s hurting,” Rachel said, her face falling into her hands. “Fuck.”

Max had so many questions racing through her head. So many things she wanted to say to the girl she had heard so many things about. What was true? Who was Rachel Amber? But it felt wrong to sate her curiosity at the expense of Rachel’s feelings.

“God, damn it,” Rachel whispered.  

Max tried to place a hand on the girl’s shoulder, but she pushed it away. Rachel stood up without warning, her feet inches away from the dangerous precipice of the moving train.

“I betrayed her.”

 “Frank?” Max asked turning to face her.

Rachel’s anger bled away from her expression, she turned to hide away from Max.

“We all hung out together. I knew she wouldn’t have wanted to hear it. But that’s just an excuse,” Rachel said, her arms folded across her stomach. “I don’t even know why I did it, honestly.”

“So, you and Chloe were…uh,” Max began, her cheeks reddening.

Rachel sighed, her hand wandering up to the blue feather earing. She brushed it between her fingers.

“Chloe and I were complicated. We meant so much to each other, and I mean we fooled around but…”

Max colored even more at Rachel’s casual admittance.

“I loved her so much, but not the way that she needed. I was stupid and I hurt her, and I regret what I did but not why I did it.”

The train car rattled, and the formless white outside began to bleed away like fog, revealing the scorched atmosphere that Max had begun to grow familiar with.

“These powers changed everything, Max.”

Max gulped. She’d been too nervous to ask Rachel outright about her powers, but her curiosity had been tormenting her almost as much as her guilt.

“Chloe never knew, did she?”

“There were so many things that I kept from her,” Rachel said, the words dripping with regret. “I thought I was protecting her, but I was just protecting myself.”

Max couldn’t imagine keeping her powers from Chloe. She would have gone crazy if she didn’t have anyone to talk to about all the unbelievable things that had happened to her. Had Rachel kept it all to herself? It must have been so lonely.

“I should have trusted her. I should have realized how good I had it with her around. But I’d spent the last three years watching my life fall apart around me. I wanted something to change so badly that when it did, I just kind of lost it.”

Rachel was pacing now, her steps uneven as the boxcar shook on rails to nowhere.

“I’m sure you heard rumors about me. That I was something different to everyone. Well I was, Max. I could go back and change every interaction. I spent hours in the same conversations, trying on different faces. I did so many amazing…and terrible things. And It felt so _good_. It made me feel free for the first time in a long time,” Rachel said, her voice growing hoarse.

There was that flicker again, a flash of movement and shadow. Rachel became a blur for a brief moment, as though she were in several places at once. Max stood and closed the distance between them, her face turned in concern. 

 “I started losing track of who I really was, and what I had actually taken back. I had so many nightmares,” Rachel said, shivering.  “I decided to leave, and never use my powers ever again. I was just going to forget everything and everyone I knew. I was going to start over. And then I met _him._

The final word fell from her mouth like a curse. It was anchor chained around her neck, dragging her somewhere dark and suffocating. Rachel’s shoulders slumped, her eyes glazing over with an unfocused stare. The train car rocked, throwing off Max’s balance for a moment. The eclipse stared down at them like an empty eye.

“I knew it was wrong…he was so much older, and he was my teacher.”

Max felt the bile rise in her throat, and the hairs on her arms stand on end. She remembered the crumpled-up letter in American Rust, written in bright marker. A letter from Rachel to Chloe about how she’d found someone new. Up until now she’d assumed it was Frank. But the coin dropped.

_Oh, god Rachel, no._

Max through her arms around her. The other girl’s arms rested limp at her side. Max felt hot tears press their way into her shoulder.

“I-I really thought he was different, Max. I trusted him, and it seems so obvious now, but I thought I loved him. God, I was so fucking stupid.”

“You can’t blame yourself. He had everyone fooled. Even me,” Max said, the final words weighted down with the memories of the past day. It made Rachel pause and look at Max. She understood.

 “He took _everything_ from me,” Rachel whispered through clenched teeth. “I hate him.”

“I hate him too. He’s not going to get away with this Rachel,” Max said, surprised by the intensity of her voice. “None of them will.”

“He’s here Max,” Rachel said, the words fragile and desperate. “They’re all here.”

Max placed her hands on Rachel’s shoulders and pressed her backwards.

“What?”

Rachel looked away from her and out of the open rail car. There was something in the distance. A dark miasma, lit occasionally by arks of lightning. The massive storm was swirling and growing. It looked bigger than the one in Max’s dream.

“You brought them all here. And now you have to get them out.”

_Chloe…Warren, Kate, and Victoria? They’re all here. And the Prescotts and Mr. Jefferson too._

“How am I supposed to get back? I-I don’t even know where to find them!”

“I found you, Max. Just use that part of me in here,” Rachel said, placing a hand on Max’s chest. 

“You...”

“Prescott broke me into pieces, but I made sure he didn’t get all of what I had,” Rachel said.

Her words were bitter, and they filled Max with a sympathetic rage.

“I was lost here for so long, through random bits of time. Just scattered memories and feelings. But I was so _angry_. I needed to stop the things that I saw building here but I couldn’t.”

“The storm?” Max asked, but Rachel shook her head.

“And then I found you, Max. Something led me to you.”

Max’s eyes widened. Rachel’s gaze locked onto her’s.

“I saw you in that bathroom with Chloe. I knew it was meant to be.”

“It was you…you were the butterfly?” Max asked.

“You saved her,” Rachel said, smiling through tears.

“B-But what I did fucked everything up. We’re trapped in here, and a storm is going to destroy Arcadia Bay. I…I don’t know if I can fix this.”

“Fuck Arcadia Bay,” Rachel whispered. “Fuck the Prescott’s little kingdom, fuck fate and what it did to us.”

“Rachel…”

“I’m sorry, Max. I’m so sorry that I forced this onto you.”

Rachel flickered again, this time she was gone completely for a few seconds, her form winking in and out of existence.

“It’s getting harder for me to be here,” Rachel said, her voice split and distant, like an echo.

 “I still need your help, and so does Chloe,” Max begged.

Rachel placed another hand on Max’s cheek, her expression strained.

 “She’s in love with you, you know?”

“W-What?”

Rachel laughed. For the first time since they met. Her form began to fade again.

“She talked about you all the time. A lot of it wasn’t flattering, if I’m being honest. But you were always on her mind,” Rachel said, her voice somewhere else now. “And I _may_ have read some of the letters she wrote to you. Bad, I know.”

_Letters?_

“I don’t think she ever got over you. She’s always been waiting for you to come back. I was just a placeholder.”

Max didn’t know what say. A voice inside her wanted to call out and refute that, to deny the possibility that Chloe might feel the same burning desire that she felt, but it wasn’t as strong as it used to be. She felt a fire spread in her chest.

“You know, I never saw past this moment.” Rachel said, her voice breaking in a half laugh and half sob. “I’m not sure what happens next.

“I’ll get her out of this, Rachel. I promise,” Max said, embracing her again, before whispering: “I’ll make up for everything.”

She watched some brilliant light inside Rachel’s eyes spark.

“You’re going to be amazing,” she said, planting a kiss on Max’s cheek close to the corner of her lips.

And then she was gone. Max stood alone on the train, her fingers drifting up to her lips.

There was a peal of thunder, and the train began to rock from a gust of wind. Max looked outside to see that she would soon be inside the storm. It was massive, writhing and charged with power and completely unnatural.

And she was afraid, so afraid. But there was something else in her chest. A feeling, a longing. It was a pull that she realized had been there all along. She gulped, and straightened her back. Chloe was inside that storm, and she was going to bring her home. No matter what. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. This was one of the chapters I'd been looking forward to writing when I first started this project. I've always viewed Rachel and Max as being distorted mirror images of each other. In many ways they are complete opposites, but I think they have a lot in common as well. Rachel feels like everything Max wishes that she could be. She's popular and confident and lives at the center of everyone's attention. But I feel like they both fill similar roles in Chloe's life and share this intense love for her. I liked the idea of making Rachel a time traveler to play off the sort of dynamic they have as two people in similar positions but with vastly different perspectives. And I think both of them are deeply empathetic characters who hurt the ones closest to them for a variety of reasons. Not sure if that makes sense but it's all I really have time to put on paper (or screen?) at the moment. 
> 
> I look forward to continuing the story! The storm awaits!


	13. Mountains and Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 Song: 
> 
> _Columbia_ by Local Natives

 

Victoria tried not to stare at the girl walking beside her. Kate Marsh looked ragged and hurt. Her clothes were torn in places, stained black with the inky substance they had only just survived. The rain had washed most it from their skin, but Victoria could still see bits under the nails of her classmate. _She must have clawed the arms as they grabbed her_ , Victoria realized with a shudder.

She stared down at her own fingernails to see that they too were crusted beneath the nail in dark crescents. Normally, this would drive her crazy—Victoria took an almost obsessive care of her appearance—but she was just about crazyied out for the week.

Kate glanced over at her as the shale-like substance beneath their feet cracked and scrapped. Bruised half-circles shaded the undersides of her eyes, almost matching the ones beneath her fingernails. Victoria tried to push away the thought of those inky hands reaching out of the ground, reaching up and tearing and clawing at those two watery blue—

_Stop it._

 Kate looked horrible, but she was alive.

_Alive_.

“We’re here,” Kate said.

The noise made Victoria jump a little and her throat tighten. They had gone almost an hour already without speaking. Kate, with her gaze locked forward, marched on with a grim determination which Victoria found unsettling.

 But what could Victoria have possibly said?

_Hey Kate, sorry I was such a massive biatch that you tried to kill yourself! Grow up, Victoria._

She winced, and Kate made a face that suggested a cautious sort of concern.

“Oh! Yeah. I guess we have to, uh…” Victoria said.

“Start climbing?” Kate offered.

“Yeah.” Victoria said, her shoulders sinking as she looked up at the scale of the endeavor they were about to undertake.

It had been in that moment just after Kate had pulled her from the depths, coughing and spitting up the ash-taste of the liquid.  They collapsed onto their backs in the rain and watched the storm behind the mountain grow, blotting out the burning sky like a blanket of thick smoke. Kate had reached her hand over to Victoria’s, locking it with hers. The touch had shocked Victoria, and she had almost pulled her hand away before she realized that maybe Kate was desperate to hold onto any hand that wasn’t pulling her down into the abyss.

Victoria had tried to fight the awkward fussiness that brewed in her chest. She knew should apologize then, to beg for forgiveness. But just as it had been in the bunker, Victoria couldn’t find the words to express the guilt that was consuming her from the inside like acid. There was something inside of her that held back the flood of words and feelings. It spoke in a tiny voice that told her to shut up and keep her distance. It was a voice Victoria new well.  

  But then that voice had been drowned out by another one. Something called out to her. It was like half-hearing her name shouted in a crowd without being able to see a familiar face. She felt drawn to the mountain, to the storm raging above and beyond it. She’d glanced over to Kate who lay beside her, and saw that she felt it too. She just _knew_ that she did.

But the instant they had locked eyes with each other, their hands pulled apart and they looked away.

And now they stood here, at the foot of the mountain, as the wind rose and the rain intensified.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Victoria said.

But Kate had already started working her way up the path, her little black— _were they white before?_ — shoes, avoiding the uneven parts of the trail.

Kate was ignoring her! Victoria fought the indignation, bludgeoning it with shame as they made their way up the mountain. The silence, having already been broken seemed like less of a barrier to her now.  

“So, do you think it’s a way out?” Victoria asked, trying to keep her tone level.

Kate flinched at the sound of Victoria’s voice. It took her a moment to answer, and when she did it her words were soft.

“I hope so.”

“Well, it has to mean something, right?” Victoria said.

Kate started to respond, when her foot slipped on a rain-slicked rock and she began to lose her footing. Victoria caught her arm preventing the fall but Kate pulled away from her with a violent jerk.

“Don’t!” Kate gasped, before whispering, “Don’t.”

Victoria’s cheeks flushed as Kate continued up the path.

“Well…fine! Be like that, I was just trying to help.”

Kate’s shoulders went rigid but she kept walking without saying a word.

Victoria fumed, flustered with Kate’s response and frustrated with her own. What was she supposed to do, just let her fall? She felt like she was walking through a social minefield, with one wrong step being all it took to blow her away.

_What did you expect idiot! She hates you, remember?_

Victoria sighed. She knew she wasn’t being fair. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Kate must be feeling. After everything she went through—after everything _Victoria_ had put her through—Kate had been forced to confront that monster Jefferson, and then to be sent here…

_To be stuck with_ me _._

Victoria would have to swallow her pride if she was going to have any hope of getting Kate out of this place.

“Hey! Kate! Look, we don’t have to be friends, ok?” Victoria said, trying not to snap. “We just have to help each other get through this.”

Kate gave a noncommittal shrug and continued up the mountain. Victoria took a deep breath. It looked like it was going to be a tough pill to swallow.

~

They were not prepared for the storm. As they climbed higher and higher, the winds grew stronger, and the rain heavier. Victoria’s heart began to thump in her chest, and not because of the climb.

She had been terrified of lightning ever since she was ten years old and a bolt had struck a tree in her back yard. The tree had split right in half, littering the lawn with chunks of wood as well as obliterating her bedroom window with the shockwave. She could still remember the sound, the loudest she’d ever heard; A titanic shriek followed by a boom that echoed through her chest, vibrating through her teeth. She thought the sound would make her heart burst.

Now lightening seemed to slither and coil in the clouds as if they were a nest of apocalyptic vipers. Victoria knew that this climb wasn’t safe, especially now that the path was steep and narrow to the point of extreme discomfort.

But Kate pushed on. Victoria could have kept pace with without trouble, but she felt giving her space was for the best. Kate was in a fragile state, so Victoria didn’t even dare to breathe too strongly in her direction. It was fortunate that she did, otherwise the rocks could have killed them both.

A bolt of lightning whipped across the side of the mountain above them in an explosion of electricity and granite. Victoria felt her jaw clench and her hairs stand on end. The charge in the air made her skin tingle with the whisper of power. Several large chunks of rock tumbled downwards towards Kate. For the briefest of instances, Victoria was rooted on the spot. Her eyes widened as Kate began to lift her arms above her head. It wouldn’t be enough.

But before Victoria could reach that conclusion, her legs had already started to move. The same legs that had stood stock still as Kate stepped onto the roof of the dormitory. The legs that had turned to jelly against the cold concrete of the Prescott bunker. The legs that she had spent every morning running across campus with when the sky was pink and cold and wet with dew.

The first impact was soft and unexpected. Kate was light, and tumbled without issue. The second impact was excruciating. Pain like white hot steel plunged into the meat of her calf. She screamed as she shielded Kate’s head with her back and shoulders, but no other pain came. Kate’s gaze, before foggy and unfocused, snapped into an excited clarity.

Victoria rolled off the shorter girl, her eyes spilling over with tears.

“Oh my God, Victoria.” Kate said, her voice rising and falling with confusion, shock, and panic.

Kate reached under her arms and attempted to drag her back, but stopped after a few feet when Victoria begged her to stop.

“I-I think it’s broken,” Victoria said, delirious.

Kate, her hair soaked with rain, ran her hands across Victoria’s leg, searching for any obvious breaks. There was a small gash across her calf that was weeping a soft stream of blood. But Kate had no way of knowing for sure how bad the injury was.

“I-It’s not safe out here. We have to find shelter,” Kate said.

“I can’t. I can’t it hurts!” Victoria said.

Kate stood up, her head turning as if towards some sound Victoria could not hear.

“Wait here,” Kate said.

“W-What?”

But Kate was already gone, leaving Victoria alone in the storm.

_She left me! She left me!_

A deep irrational fear sank into Victoria’s chest. What if Kate never came back? What if she finally realized that she was better off on her own? She did not want to be alone up here on the side of the mountain, wet and in pain. Victoria didn’t think she would be ok with being alone for a great long while, she realized.

Without thinking, she tried to claw her way after Kate but stopped after the pain in her leg gave a convincing argument for staying put. Another crack of lighting brought a fresh batch of tears.

When she felt Kate’s hands slip underneath her arms again, she almost cried out in relief.

“Victoria, you need to help me. You need to stand,” Kate said.

Victoria’s protests were drowned out by another wicked bolt of lightning. She nodded in desperate acceptance.

“This will probably hurt,” Kate whispered as she slipped Victoria’s arm over her shoulder.  

It did. Very much so.

Kate lifted with a strength that belied her small stature, as Victoria did her best to push up with her good leg. For one brief, terrible moment, Victoria felt her strength threaten to give out. She stumbled, almost taking them both over the edge. But she was stronger than that, and the two of them stood and made their way down another path Victoria hadn’t remembered seeing before. She didn’t dwell on it long, instead she found herself more fascinated with Kate’s warmth against her skin, and the feeling of the girl’s wet hair on her neck and the quiet power she felt in her grip. For a second she even forgot about the pain in her leg.

When they stepped into the cave, Kate set her down against the wall with as much care as she could muster. Victoria tried her best to cover up the pain she felt for her sake. They both leaned back against the dry, bizarrely warm wall of the cave and took a moment to rest. In here the storm sounded far away, like a distant memory.

“You saved me,” Kate whispered. “Again.”

“I…I just did what you would have done. What you’ve…already done,” Victoria said, her mind foggy with pain and exhaustion.

Kate stared at her, with sad, gentle, blue eyes. And then Victoria felt her consciousness slip away from her.

~

When Victoria awoke, she found that the pain in her leg had gone from white hot agony to a dull, throbbing ache. She glanced at the wound and saw that Kate had tied a makeshift bandage around the gash to stop the bleeding.

Her breath caught in her throat when she realized Kate was no longer beside her. She stiffened, causing a brief flare of agony as her eyes tried to adjust to the gloom. The awful weight of solitude began to press down upon her.

“Kate?” she muttered in a voice that was so soft it was almost unrecognizable to her.

She heard something move on the other side of the cave, and almost lost herself to panic before she could see it was Kate.

She had put her hair back up into a wild, but contained bun. The sleeve of her white shirt was missing, the edges jagged where it once connected to the shoulder. Victoria gulped, now she knew were the bandage had come from.

“You’re awake!” Kate said, relieved.

“How long was I out?”

“Not too long,” Kate said, kneeling beside her. “I don’t really have a watch.”

Kate looked like she wanted to say more, but then thought better of it.

“Where are we?” Victoria asked.

“Some kind of cave? It’s weird though.”

Victoria raised a brow.

“It’s warm in here, and dry,” Kate said, trying to find the words. “And it’s not very deep.”

It really _was_ odd, now that Victoria thought about it. She was almost dry, despite being soaked through when they entered the cave, and the temperature was pleasant, almost cozy.

“It’s almost as if…” Kate began, but stopped.

“What?” Victoria asked, leaning over to make eye contact.

Kate fidgeted with her hands before pushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

“I wonder if this cave was here because we needed it to be.”

Victoria didn’t know how to respond, and it must have shown on her face.

“N-Never mind, it was stupid—,” Kate began.

“No,” Victoria said, her voice more forceful than she’d intended. “I-I mean you shouldn’t uh…you know…”

Kate looked up at her, searching in Victoria’s eyes for something.

“I felt it too,” Victoria said, feeling stupid.

“A calling,” Kate said, as she pulled at the hem of her skirt.

“Kinda like in the bible…?” Victoria said, but then blushed when she saw the expression on Kate’s face. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!”

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

“Like what?” Kate asked.

“Like…you’re the weird church girl type of thing?”

_VICTORIA!_

But to Victoria’s surprise, Kate laughed. It was a frantic sort of laugh that forced Kate to cover her mouth. She looked up towards the sky before looking away with twinge of embarrassment. Victoria shifted in her seat, wincing at what it did to her leg.

“It’s…nothing. Really,” Kate said.

A silence fell between them, Victoria unable to push the topic further and Kate unwilling to elaborate. The silence was overbearing and it grew to such an excruciating length that Victoria wondered if it might be worth the pain to run out of there.

The two of them jumped at an unmistakable creaking sound from behind them. In the back of the cave, a door had opened.

“T-That wasn’t there before,” Kate said, stepping towards the opening.

Victoria felt an odd constriction in her chest. She wanted to reach out and grab Kate to keep her from moving. If anything were to happen, there would be nothing that she could do. The feeling of powerlessness was suffocating. But there was something else too, a fierce, invasive feeling that told Victoria she would take another broken leg for Kate. She would do anything to get her out of here safe.

_She deserves as much._

When Kate returned, her steps were slow. She looked back once before moving to help Victoria to her feet.

“What is it?” Victoria asked, a slight tremble in her voice.

“You’re going to have to see it,” Kate said.

Victoria felt herself growing more comfortable leaning on Kate’s shoulders. She almost felt _safe_. But that feeling didn’t last long.

What did she hope to accomplish by being dead weight? Just like in the bunker with Max. Poor little Victoria needed someone else to save her, even if it could get them killed. After all she’d done to Kate, the girl was supposed to just carry her around like some kind of servant? Victoria couldn’t even find the decency to thank her.

_Victoria, you fucking parasite._

Her train of self-loathing was derailed by the sight of the doorway hidden away at the back of the cave. It was _her_ doorway.

_~_

Victoria sat on the foot of her bed, still smothered in silent disbelief. It was like someone had placed her inside of a photograph of her childhood. The soft pastel pink walls, covered in anime posters and pictures her parents had taken, looked just as they did when she lived in Seattle. A bed, much too large for a small child, wreathed in lacy curtains, dominated the center. The comforter was overstuffed and decorated with an intricate stitch pattern that suggested a hefty price tag. It was crowded with a mountain of plush toys that stared back at her with friendly, but empty, eyes.

 Against the other wall was her desk and vanity mirror, covered in hair brushes and plastic horses. A plate with a single slice of chocolate cake sat uneaten on the polished wooden surface. A single candle burned, with a dim orange light that could never illuminate the emptiness that Victoria felt inside in that moment.

When she had looked into the mirror, she half expected to see herself as a child, her hair long and her face round with baby fat. But it was still her, or at least, something like her. She looked like a mess, but more than that, she looked _tired_.

“This was your room?” Kate asked, there was surprise in her voice, but no judgment.

Victoria, having forgotten Kate for a moment, was now blushing despite herself. She recoiled away from her, fiddling with the curtain beside the bed.

“Well, when I was a kid! It’s not like I like any of this stuff anymore,” Victoria said, trying to hide the crimson that had spread across her cheeks.

“You don’t have to get defensive, Victoria,” Kate whispered. “The room is cute.”

Victoria’s mouth turned to cotton, her embarrassment magnified tenfold.

“I just…I’m not used to having people in this room.”

Kate sat on the bed beside her, her bare arm touching Victoria’s for a second before she pulled away.

“What do you mean?” Kate asked.

Victoria felt like she had a million eyes watching her, on a stage with a hundred bright spotlights. She could feel her hands getting sweaty, something she absolutely _loathed_ about herself. But Kate kept staring at her, not with amusement, but with a concerned sort of curiosity.  

“I was alone a lot,” Victoria said, gaze fixed on her lap. “As a kid.”

_Ugh._

“What?” Kate said.

“My parents spent most of their time working, and so when I wasn’t at school, I was here,” she said, staring at the uneaten cake.

“You didn’t have any friends?” Kate asked.

Victoria winced.

_Ugh!_

“You’re looking at most of them,” Victoria said, gesturing to the army of stuffed animals behind her.

“But you’re…you’re so popular,” Kate said, a light blush of shame dusting her cheeks.

“Well, this may come as a surprise to you, but I’m not very good at getting people to like me,” Victoria said, feeling ugly emotions bubbling at the base of her throat. “I…wasn’t very good at sharing, and I said a lot of things that made other kids cry.”

“You were mean,” Kate said. It was stated as a simple fact, like she was tall or shy.

_UGH!_

“Yeah ok! I was mean! I was spoiled rotten by my clueless parents,” Victoria said despite herself. Somewhere deep inside her, a little voice was screaming at her to stop talking.

Kate leaned away for a movement, but made no sign of interrupting.

“But they worked so much that I hardly ever saw them. They left me here all alone, with a fucking nanny and toys and clothes and a big fat empty house,” Victoria said, fighting a desperate battle with the tears building in her eyes.

Victoria looked at the cake on the dresser and laughed as some of the tears slipped through her defenses.

“They even missed my ninth birthday! Too busy. The Chase Space was always their real baby,” she said with a bitterness that she could taste. “I’m sure they couldn’t wait to send me away to Blackwell.”

The words kept tumbling from Victoria’s mouth faster than she could process them.

“I know that probably just sounds like a lot of bullshit coming from me, but I thought that…I thought that…”

Kate, remained motionless, her gaze shifting between Victoria to her own folded hands.

“I thought that maybe there was a _reason_ that they didn’t see me. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for them to see me,” she said, her voice growing smaller and smaller.

Victoria pressed her face into her hands, feeling the spotlights growing brighter, the voice in her head screaming louder.

_Why am I telling her all this? Just looking for some sympathy, huh, Victoria? Sure, let’s make this all about me!_

She looked at Kate, but when their eyes met, Victoria clenched her fists and contemplated punching her bedpost.

“I’m terrified that the only reason people see me is because they’re afraid of me. And now…now with Nathan…,” Victoria said, her voice choking with emotion.

Both of them went pale at the mention of his name. Victoria could speak no more; the hurt was just too great. Nathan _was_ one of her best friends. When she came to Blackwell Academy her freshmen year, Nathan he had been so much different than he was now. They were both in the introductory photography class together. Victoria, terrified of getting left behind, noted everything the teacher said at a feverish pace.

“You don’t have to write all that down,” a soft voice had said from beside her.

Blushing, Victoria had slammed her hands down onto her paper to hide her shame. She turned to see Nathan Prescott, facing towards her but with his eyes on her hands.

“A lot of this is in the reading. I can show you my notes after class if you want.”

He had been so much softer back then. Quiet and talented, but with a sensitive and emotional disposition that made him too vulnerable to the outside world. Had things been different, maybe Nathan could have grown up to be a respectful, decent, perhaps even wonderful person. But he learned early that his vulnerability could be weakness. It was a lesson taught to him by his tyrant of a father. Victoria’s parents weren’t there enough for her, but Nathan’s problem was the exact opposite. No matter how many walls he put up to protect himself, he could never escape the ever-present shadow of his father. Victoria always knew that Sean could be abusive, but she had _no_ idea just how deep and dark the abyss in that man’s heart ran.

Could she have stopped all of this? She knew Nathan. They spent their years at Blackwell together, clawing their way up the social ladder, becoming the king and queen of the vortex club’s domain. Victoria and Nathan could always on each other, when they were uncertain or afraid. There were things that she had told him that no other living soul had heard her say.

But maybe she was being dishonest with herself. The truth was that she had started to fear Nathan. His temper had gotten worse, almost as bad as his father’s. He lashed out moment and then retreated within himself the next, his eyes glazing over as he became lost in whatever abyss he had been pushed into.  Victoria suspected now that there were parts of Nathan that she didn’t know at all, parts of him that were dark and twisted and all consuming. How much had he been complicit in? How many other people had he hurt? She knew with dreadful certainty that wasn’t just Kate or Max or her. Her mind drifted back to the missing person’s posters all over campus and felt another piece of her heart break.

Victoria had seen enough now to know that true evil existed in the world. It didn’t look like something with sharp teeth and too many eyes. It wasn’t some intangible force that hid under the bed.  It was handsome and it wore suits and told you everything you wanted to hear until it could get you alone and devour everything you ever loved about yourself until you were nothing but a shell of what you were. Or dead.

And now a thought creeped into Victoria’s head. It was a thought so terrifying, so gruesome and offensive that if she dwelled on it too long it would destroy her.

_Am I like_ him _?_

“I’m sorry, Victoria,” Kate said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

At first, she thought maybe she had misheard, but she could tell from the look on Kate’s face that was not the case. Victoria could never have prepared herself to hear those words.

“Y-You what?”

“I’m sorry about earlier, when I laughed at you,” Kate said, her gaze still on her lap.

A series of babbling sounds spilled from Victoria’s lips as she struggled with a response.

“I was laughing at the absurdity of it all. _You_. After everything that’s happened, you’re just so different than I thought you’d be,” She said with a tired giggle. “And I was laughing at myself, for losing faith.”

Victoria swallowed the lump in her throat, and waited for Kate to continue.

“I think that cave _was_ there for a reason. I think this room is here for a reason too. You said something that you needed to say, and I heard something that I needed to hear. I don’t know how any of this is possible or why it’s happening, but I think whatever it is, it has a greater purpose.” Kate said. She paused for a moment, her expression like that of a person who had just come to understand a clever joke.  Then she whispered to herself, “Mathew 11:28.”

“What’s that?” Victoria asked.

“‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,’” Kate said.

And for the first time since they got here, Kate smiled.

_Have I ever seen her with a smile on her face?_

“I think I understand,” Victoria said, her voice sounding grave and serious.

Kate’s smile grew and she snorted. She brought up a hand to her mouth to stifle a series of giggles before giving up and falling into a laughing fit. She gripped the sides of her belly, trying to look at Victoria, but every time she did she her laughter increased twofold.

Victoria, mouth agape, watched as Kate’s eyes began to water. And then, with a slow, almost inevitable build of chuckles, Victoria began to laugh too.

So, they sat together on the foot of Victoria’s ridiculous bed, surrounded by the lacy pastel memories of her childhood and laughed as the sky burned and somewhere a storm raged. For the first time in what felt like eternity, Victoria felt hopeful for what came next as another door opened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the delay. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! More to come soon hopefully.


End file.
